Blood Of The Magi
by Spaced20
Summary: Morrigan gave a little chuckle. "So this is one of the fearsome maleficarum? My, my. She chills me to the very bone!" Layla Amell and Kayden Cousland finally meet and form a plan of attack against the forces of the fade. HOLY MAKER! Chapter 9 is up!
1. A Rude Awakening

**Dragon Age: Blood Of The Magi**

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><p><strong>All of it belongs to Bioware, except the characters I've invented myself. Blood Of The Magi was been a glint in my eye for quite a long time...<strong>

**What If Duncan had never came to the Circle and saved Amell from the wrath of the Templars?**

**This Is Layla Amell's tale.**

**Please take a few moments to**** review. It would mean the whole of Thedas to me.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 1: A rude Awakening<strong>

_On a cliff overlooking the dark waters of Lake Calenhad stands the tower fortress that is home to the Circle of Magi. This tower is the only place in Ferelden where Mages may study their art amoung others of their kind. Within the high stone walls, the Circle practises its magic and trains apprenctices in the proper use of their powers. But the circle tower is as much a prison as a refuge; the ever-vigilant Templar's of the Chantry watch over all Mages, constantly alert for any signs of corruption. This gilded cage is the only world Layla Amell knows. Found to be sensitive to magic at a young age, Layla was torn from her family and grafted here as an apprentice. Now, that apprentiship is nearly over and all that remains is the final test: The Harrowing._

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><p>The Antechamber of Kinloch Hold was a thing of true beauty. One of the highest points in the whole of Ferelden, with only Fort Drakon boasting a more spectacular view. Moonlight flowed through the stain glass windows, casting far-reaching shadows over the huge room's occupants. The Avvar achiticure glowed and sparkled in the moonlight, giving the entire room a deep blue crescindio of colour.<p>

However, the occupants of the room had little time to admire the rather wonderful view.

"This is a thing of necessity, Templar Cullen!" Greagoir growled at the boys spluttering.

"If the girl fails the harrowing, a demon will possess her and you MUST strike her down!"

Cullen felt slightly light headed. He felt the other Templars staring at him through their heavy helmets. He guessed that most were staring at him with contempt. He was almost beyond caring at the moment.

"But… but surely-"

"Layla Amell is a capable mage, Ser Cullen," Ser Wesley condoled, "I believe it unlikely that she would submit easily to the will of a demon. But their must be precautions."

Cullen finally gave a weak nod, hoping the moonlight glaring on his face was disguising how pale he was.

"This is in the maker's hands now," Knight Commander Greagoir added gruffly.

In the centre of the room, currently being poked at with complex spells by several mages, was a glowing ceremonial goblet of liquid Lyrium. Cullen could detect the strong intoxicating scent slowly wafting up his nostrils even from this distance. It made feel a little bit stronger, at least.

Maker, and did he need to feel strong right now.

"The Harrowing potion is prepared," A crackly voice called out, reverberating on and around the rooms impressive cavernous acoustics.

First Enchanter Irving was standing with his arms behind his back as three other mages stepped away from the goblet.

"If you would summon apprentice Amell? I'm sure we would all like to get this other with."

Cullen nodded glumly and began his descent into the tower.

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><p>The Apprentice quarters were not at all fancy. Four dozen bunk beds were squeezed into the modest space, with no doors or walls to give the Mages even the illusion of privacy. Cullen spotted Layla Amell immediately, To his ever bearing shame, he had cast her sleeping place to memory a few months ago. She was snoring loudly. An incredibly thick book was laying on her chest with one arm wrapped around it, entitled <em>"From Beyond the Veil: Spirits and Demons, By Enchanter Mirdromel" <em>and her thick shoulder length brown hair was all over the place.

_And she was quite beautiful,_ Cullen reflected glumly.

He approached her quietly. Well, as quietly as one could approach a sleeping mage in a tonne of heavy armour.

Before he could prepare something witty to say to her, perhaps something that would make her laugh and help her see past the armour and the flaming sword of mercy engraved on his chest, the book slid out from it's resting place and fell to the floor with a mind numbingly loud dusty clump.

Layla's eyes snapped open, her green eyes instantly dancing and alert. She sat up quickly, smacking her head on the upper bunk with a clunk and a "Ow!"

She rubbed her head vigorously then peered at the towering piece of armour that was standing over her.

Cullen smiled sheepishly.

"Layla, I-"

"Cullen!" She positively beamed at him. "If this is about what happened to Mr. Wiggums, I wasn't even on the same floor at the time, I-"

Cullen quickly waved his armoured hands in a desperate act to stop her gibbering. (delightful as it was, he didn't want to wake the other apprentices).

Layla frowned at him then yawned again.

"So what is this? Snap inspection?"

Cullen looked at her with what he hoped to be the Templar look of "Stoic and Grim purpose" but she simply raised an eyebrow at him.

"Are you alright? You look like you're about to be sick."

He sighed.

"I've been sent By Knight Commander Greagoir," he told her weakly. "it's time for-"

"If it's about that cat, I'll deny everything."

"-your Harrowing."

Layla's gorgeous green eyes widened. And a slight twitch of fear thrashed behind them.

"Oh. Um… I see, what shall I bring?"

"Only your courage,"

"So I can't even get dressed?"

"No. I mean- yes!" Cullen flinched. Maker, _please don't let me blush. Please._

"Get dressed and follow me, I'll wait outside."

He practically ran from the room, not daring to look back.

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><p>Codex Entry update!<p>

**Layla Amell**

"_**I'm a Mage. It's hard to make a comeback when you haven't been anywhere in the first place."**_

Brave, resourceful and cunning, Layla Amell has made something of a name for herself during her long years in the Circle. Incredibly gifted, especially for someone so young; her drive for knowledge has made her one of the most powerful apprentices in the Tower. However, her constant thirst for knowledge and experience has caused her more than one bad encounter with the templars, who believe that her easy going charm has allowed her to avoid the maker's wrath on more than one occasion.

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><p><em>Just a short introduction, longer chapter next time :)<em>

_Please, please PLEASE, take a moment to write a quick review. believe me, it's the highlight of my day_


	2. The Harrowing

**Thanks to Dumat's claw (nice name) for the review. Also massive thanks to Reven Vakarian for adding the story to his favorites, Thanks for your support!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 2: The Harrowing<strong>

"Magic exists to rule man, and never rule over him," Knight Commander Greagoir began, advancing slowly on the young mage.

"Thus spoke the prophet Andraste, as she cast down the Tevinter Imperium,-…"

Layla rolled her tired eyes. _Oh, please don't start a bloody sermon._ She caught Cullen out of the corner of her eye. Maker, he looked terrible, pasty and shaky. He probably looked worse than her.

What in all of Thedas were they going to do to her?

She had heard a thousand and one rumours, of course.

Mages were terribly gossipy creatures, and she had every theory from:

"_Apparently, the Templars all throw their swords at you and you have to deflect them with magic!"_

To:

"_Well, I heard, that if you fail, the senior enchanters turn you into a pig and eat you for dinner!"_

She realised she hadn't listened to a word the lead templar had been saying. What if she had to repeat what he had said? What if she had to do a written exam? What if she WAS turned into a Pig?

Her rambling mind was dragged back into the present with a screech when she noticed that all the Templars were now glaring at her.

She smiled with confidence, confidence she certainly wasn't feeling. After all, becoming a Pig would just be… intolerable.

"You're magic is a gift…" Wow. She thought. _Did Greagoir just say that?_

"-But it is also you're curse…" Ah… _there it is. _She worried if he had gone a bit soft for a moment.

"-For demons of the dream realm - the Fade - are drawn to you. And seek to use you as a gateway into this world."

_Hang on… _she wondered suddenly as a blue glow caught her eye. _Is that Lyrium in that container? _

"This is why the Harrowing exists," Senior Enchanter Irving began. This was obviously well rehearsed, she reflected, still watching the sparkling Lyrium with curiosity.

"The ritual sends you into the Fade, and there you will face a demon, armed with only your will."

Layla looked up and stared at the man.

"You… want me to go into the fade… and have a wrestle with a Demon?" she asked, disbelieving.

Cullen was visibly grimacing now, but Irving's and Greagoir's faces were unreadable. Set in stone.

"And if you fail," The knight-Commander primly informed the unbelieving Mage. "It will turn you into an Abomination and the Templars will be forced to slay you."

_No pigs then._

The bubbling potion of what was obviously Lyrium gave a menacing bubble, as if to reinforce the Templars point.

Greagoir saw that she was staring at, and moved her slightly closer.

"This is Lyrium: The very essence of magic and your gateway into the fade."

She was going to get chucked into the Fade. This was the worst night, ever.

She was surprised when Irving grabbed her by the shoulder and began whispering to her urgently.

"The Harrowing is a secret out of necessity, child. Every mage must go through this trial by fire. As we succeeded, so shall you.!"

"But I-" she began. Irving cut her off.

"Keep your wits about you and remember the Fade is a realm of dreams. The spirits may rule it, but your own will is real!"

She nodded weakly, her heart pounding. The Harrowing potion gave another menacing bubble, and a small haze Of Lyrium mist rose lazily into the air.

"The apprentice must go through this test alone, First Enchanter," The Knight Commander informed them coolly.

Layla span around her heel and glared at him with her emerald eyes.

"Alone? He's hardly giving me-"

"Alone," The intolerable man repeated, returning the glare.

Perhaps he wouldn't even wait for her to become an Abomination. Maybe he would cut her down the moment she was in the Fade…

"You are ready," Greagoir informed her.

There was nothing to be done. Layla took a step forward, feeling the eyes of Templar and Mage alike burning into her back.

The potion was a beautiful pale blue, sparks of magical energy bounced off and around the surface.

She squeezed her eyes shut and plunged her hand into the basin. The effect was not entirely unpleasant; kind of tingly, she reflected. Then her Spirit was torn from her body, and the empty shell that had been Layla Amell collapsed to the floor with a stony thud.

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><p>Layla's eyes fluttered open . She found herself in a tangle of limbs on the floor of a small clearing, everything seemed warped and twisted. She stood up, aching and swaying slightly.<p>

"Ugh…" she muttered, with feeling. Her protesting voice echoed oddly, as if she was in the storage Cave back at the Circle, not a wide open space.

She took in the view.

Everything was oddly hazy, like looking at a scene through a murky window. The entire landscape seemed twisted and alive. Long tendrils of rock sprung from the earth at seemingly random intervals, she noticed a piece of Avvar stonework, standing tall and proud amidst the living landscape; a steep slope that opened out into a petrified forest of alien fauna.

She took several steps forward, her entire body just felt… _wrong. _As if her commands were on a one second delay, and her body was trying desperately to keep up.

Perhaps this was what being drunk was like. She didn't much care for it.

"Right then," she said over loudly. Perhaps she could lure the demon out. No point delaying the inevitable.

"Hello? Is there a Demon about? Epic battle for my soul? Anyone?"

No answer, but the entire landscape seemed to creak ominously.

She sighed theatrically.

"I'll just stay hear then, shall I? I mean, not like I have better things to be doing,"

Nothing.

She started walking down the steep slope, the bizarre vegetation, swaying and spindly, seemed to track her progress.

A glowing ball of light floated eerily in front of her, bobbing up and down and side to side.

"I don't suppose you're the Demon?" she asked politely.

The Wisp struck out with a bolt of light, and Layla gave a shriek of surprise and pain.

"Oh you little-" she threw out her hands, hitting the Wisp with a powerful arcane bolt of energy.

The Wisp popped like a balloon and floated slowly, almost serenely to the floor.

She continued on her path, meeting a few more Wisps, quickly dispatching them with two bolts of Magical lightening.

She wondered if she should just… walk around. Was the Demon even aware she was here? Did she have to hunt it down? She wished Irving had been slightly more explicit about what she had to do in this dump.

She walked for a few more minutes, meeting little in the way of resistance. The path climbed ominously then descended just as quickly, giving her the oddest sense of weightlessness.

But then, she reminded herself, she only weighed something because she believed she did. Her true body was lying on the hard stone floor of the Circle's Antechamber. Maker, what if the Templars were going through her stuff? That would just be-

"Someone else thrown to the wolves. As fresh and unprepared as ever."

Layla looked around, slightly startled. Who the hell was-

"It isn't right that they do this, the Templars. Not to you, me, anyone."

She looked down. It was a Rat. A rat was talking to her.

_Joy._

"You're a talking rat," she informed him, wondering if the small mammal was aware of this.

The Rat gave a sour chuckle. "You think you're really here? In that body? You look like-"

"Yes, yes," she interrupted impatiently. "My will makes it so, etc. etc."

She crouched down, her green eyes full of curiosity, a kind smile spreading over her lips.

The Rat gave a theatrical sigh. "It's always the same. But it's not your fault. You're in the same boat I was, aren't you?"

The Rat began to glow, and warped into a far larger, more agreeable shape, slightly taller than Layla.

"Allow me to welcome you to the fade," The man said, in a theatrical fashion. "You can call me… well, Mouse."

"_Mouse?" _She replied, biting back a laugh. "I though you were a Rat, myself."

He glared at her, then smiled. "Mouse is slightly more respectful, don't you agree?"

"Oh quite," She replied. It didn't do to make enemies here. She may have found an Ally against the Demon. He could… bite him or… something.

"So… "Mouse" not your real name I take it?"

"No," he replied, his dull green eyes watching her carefully. "I don't remember anything from… before."

"I'm sorry," she said. "I mean it. No one deserves that kind of death."

He waved away her apology. "do not waste time feeling sorry for me! The Templars kill you if you take to long, you see. They figure you failed, and they don't want something getting out."

Layla felt her worst fears chewing at the back of her mind.

"They'll just… kill me?"

"That's what they did to me, I think." The man added sadly. "I have no body to reclaim. And you don't have much time before you end up the same."

"This is ridiculous!" she protested. "I can't even find this damned Demon! It's not like the Templars gave me a map! And what in all of Thedas am I supposed to do when I find the creature anyway?"

"There is… something here," He informed her. She felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. Well, her imaginary body could do "fear" pretty well at least.

"It's contained, just for an apprentice like you. You have to face the creature, a demon, and resist it… if you can."

"And then I can get out of here?" She asked, "Hope" now replacing "Fear" as her emotion of choice.

"Or your opponent will. If the Templars didn't manage to kill it."

"Anything can die. I doubt it's as simple as that,"

Mouse's face ascended into a crooked smile. Layla didn't like it.

"You would be a fool to just attack everything you see. What you face is powerful, cunning."

The fade seemed to shift with a loud creak to emphasise Mouse's point.

"There are others here, other spirits, they will tell you more, maybe help. If you can believe anything you see."

Layla nodded, rising to her feet. "Looks like I need to have a chat with some of these spirits."

Mouse took a meaningful step forward to follow her.

"I'll follow, if that's all right. My chance was long ago, but you… you may have a way out."

"Just be careful I don't step on you," she informed him as he transformed back into a rat with a flash of white.

So the bizarre party began it's way. The mage, breezing along, but with a spell ready to defend herself at a moments notice; And a rat, which bawled cheerfully after her like a loyal Mabari.

The path began to raise steadily, Layla was quickly becoming fatigued. If she survived this she would need to seriously consider some sort of exercise regime. She recalled with a rueful grin how the Mages were originally allowed to go outside the tower for a bit of fresh air and exercise, It had been going well, Until one of her fellow mages, a man named Anders had thrown caution to the winds and dived straight into the lake and swam to the other shore.

The mages weren't exactly encouraged to enjoy fresh air after that.

"A dangerous spirit is not far," Mouse informed her as they neared the summit.

"Dangerous?" Layla panted. "How can you tell?"

"I can sense it's hate," Mouse replied, his long tail swaying slowly from side to side. "Don't go near it unless you are ready to fight,"

Layla continued, quickening her step slightly., the steep path was finally levelling out, thank the Maker.

A strong smell of smoke hit her suddenly like a brick wall. It was like walking over a bonfire. She began to cough and dry retch, tears rolling down her cheeks with the effort of it.

"What-" She coughed again, which quickly evolved into another dry heave.

"That?" she finished feebly.

The pair found themselves in a ring of fire, she looked around, startled. The small bonfires were almost tribal in arrangement.

Waiting for a sacrifice.

"This is where the test will take place," Mouse told her, confirming her fears.

"I love what he's done with it," She replied tartly. "It's so very Tevinter Imperium,"

She stood for a moment, tense, every muscle contorted, every nerve tingling.

Nothing happened.

"Do I have to summon it? She wondered. "Is their some sort of summons? Incantation? Pass code?"

The mouse gave a dry chuckle.

"The creature can be anywhere, but it manifests here, in this ring of flame."

Layla nodded. "You said their were some friendly spirits about?"

"Close," Mouse reassured her.

The pair moved on from the flaming arena, and were attacked by more Wisp Wraiths. Layla threw several quick spells at them, her hands glistening with energy as the arcane bolts flew quickly and hit their intended targets.

"I remember reading of these creatures," Layla informed her rodent comrade. "A wisp is a demon that has lost it's power, usually because they were too stupid to mind their own business and think they can survive in the real world."

"They are mindless, powerless fools," Mouse agreed, scurrying after her. "They deserve their fate."

A few more wisp Wraiths. A few more arcane bolts from an impatient mage.

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><p>"Ah haaa!" Layla suddenly announced. "Guess what I can see!"<p>

A glowing man was visible close to their path. He was in Templar armour, which did little to dampen the mage's cheerful enthusiasm, and seemed to be protecting rack after rack of magical staves

"Another spirit this way," Mouse commented, contempt in his voice. "He never seemed equal to his name, to me."

"To be fair," Layla replied, smiling her most winning smile at the knight. "You are a rodent."

Layla approached the glowing figure with sheer charisma as her weapon of choice.

"Hello!" she called. "Lovely day for it! Do you have days in the Fade? I forget. I mean, I don't forget, I was never sure in the first place and I-"

She caught the spirits glaring eyes.

"I'm babbling. Sorry."

"Another foolish mortal thrown into the flames and left to burn, I see."

"That's me," She replied brightly. "Without the burning part, hopefully."

The sprit snorted. "your mages have devised a cowardly test. Better you were pitted against each other to prove your mettle with skill, than to be unarmed against a demon."

"I agree, but I didn't exactly have a choice in the matter."

The sprit nodded, his glowing armour glinting and glistening in the dull murky surroundings.

"Indeed. The choice, and the fault, lies with the Mages who sent you here. That you remain means you have not yet defeated your hunter-"

"I can't even find the damned creature." She responded, smiling through a scowl.

"He will find you," Mouse said darkly.

"And it will be a glorious battle!" The sprit agreed.

"Talking of battle…" Layla took a step forward, "I don't suppose I could borrow one of those rather lovely staves?"

"You wish one of my staves?" The spirit growled indignantly, as if she had just asked to borrow a kidney. "My purpose is to seek perfection! Creating the ultimate weapon for the pursuit of Valor!"

"That's who this spirit is," Mouse explained.

"It is as the tiny, four legged one says," Valor agreed. "I am Valor, a warrior spirit. I hone my weapons in search of-"

"Would one of these staves kill the demon if I hit it hard enough?" Layla eagerly asked.

"Without a doubt!" Valor replied proudly. "A weapon is a single need for battle, and my will makes it so. Do you truly desire one of my weapons?"

Layla nodded like an eager puppy.

"If it's not too much trouble."

"Then I will give one to you… If you agree to duel me."

Mouse gave an audible groan. Layla stared up at the six foot armour plated mad man.

"Run that past me again."

"If I believe you capable of slaughtering the demon, I will stop the duel and give you the staff. If I find you unworthy, I will slay you."

Layla noticed her mouth was gaping, and clamped it closed, her mind spinning.

"It seems to me you just want to kill me yourself."

"Oh here we go…" mouse muttered.

"How DARE you accuse me! I am a spirit of Valor! A warrior! A-"

"An armed lunatic who challenges defenceless mortals to duels when he should be helping them defeat evil!" She shouted back, green eyes blazing.

"You are insolent!" Valor growled back. "But your will is unquestionably strong. …"

Valor turned on his heel and reached for one of the staves. It was a crooked, wizened thing, but seemed to glow with magical energy. Valor pressed it into Layla's hands, perhaps slightly more forcefully than was strictly necessary.

"You have proven to me that you have the tenacity and the strength to defeat this demon. Go prove yourself!"

Layla beamed at him and twirled the staff around in her fingers.

"This'll do nicely. My thanks, Spirit of Valor."

Valor ignored them as they drifted off.

The two continued on their way, Layla savouring the increase in spell power that Valor's staff gave her. Mouse trotted by her side, his nose twitching and snuffling over the ground like a tracker hound.

The pathway had begun to climb steeply again, but Layla's pace quickened regardless.

Suddenly, a burst of light exploded directly in front of her, throwing the mage backwards several feet. She looked up, glaring at her opponent.

It was In the shape of a wolf, but obviously a sprit creature, judging by it's brilliantly white coat and glowing red eyes. It snarled at them, teeth bared. Mouse practically buried himself in her robes.

"Mouse!" she protested, giggling despite herself. " Ouch! that tickles!"

The spirit wolf pounced at her, teeth bared. Layla brought up her staff and fired off an electrical bolt of lightening that struck the snarling wolf right in the face. It shrieked and collapsed to the floor in pain. Layla brought her staff down hard, and the wolf exploded in a plume of light.

Two more appeared, but proved little of worth against Layla's increased spell power.

"Mouse?" Layla muttered the moment the path was clear. "Mouse, for maker's sake, get out of my robe!"

Mouse pointed his nose out from under the fabric and peered about suspiciously. When his tiny black eyes caught her fierce green ones glaring at him, he slinked out from under her cloths.

"Sorry," he muttered. "I have spent so long hiding, it is a force of habit. A matter of survival."

Layla smirked, lowering her staff.

"Can't you transform into something with… I don't know… claws? And fire breath?"

The Rat shifted and strained in white light, and again, a man was standing where the creature had been,

"The mouse is the only form I have learnt," he explained, regretfully. "When I was trapped in the Fade, I became small, unnoticeable. A mouse. I know nothing of other forms."

Layla patted him on the shoulder. "perhaps someone hear could help you with that?"

A strange glint flickered behind Mouse's dull eyes.

"There is another spirit close by," he told her. "Not the one hunting you, but still…"

Layla nodded and rose her staff, advancing up the hill with grim purpose.

Huge tendrils of some bizarre plant life were twisting all about the passageway. It was almost like a shrine for it's occupant.

Layla and mouse stared human and rat eyes at the creature. It was like a bear, but yet… horribly wrong. Half it's bones seemed to be on the outside, with painful looking cavernous wounds situated all over its huge body. It was laying on the floor, looking rather comfortable.

Until it opened a single bloodshot eye.

"Hmm…" it muttered in a rather bizarre upper class accent. "So you are the mortal being hunted? And the small one… is he to be a snack for me?"

To Mouse's credit, he didn't dive back under Layla's robe, but transformed back into his human shape. And he was glaring at the creature with venom.

"I don't like this," he growled. "He's not going to help us. We should just go…"

Layla nudged him in the rib. "Relax. I won't let this… bear thing eat you."

She rose her staff to reinforce her point.

"No matter," The bear sniffed. "The demon will get you eventually, and perhaps there will even be… scrapes left."

Layla frowned. "You look like you've been put through the mauler," she pointed out.

"What the hell are you supposed to be?"

"It's a demon." Mouse answered. "Perhaps even more powerful than the one hunting you."

"Very likely," The demon responded, blinking slowly. "Now begone! Don't you have better things to be doing than bother Sloth-"

"Sloth?" Layla repeated. "You're a sloth Demon?"

With what looked like considerable effort, the Sloth Demon rose up on it's powerful muscular legs.

"I tire of you already!" sloth snarled. The he yawned. And collapsed to the floor.

"I don't suppose you could help us fight another demon?" Layla asked sweetly.

"You have a VERY nice staff," Sloth replied coolly. "Why would you need me? Go, use you're wooden stick. Be… Valorous."

Mouse however, seemed to have a different idea. His green eyes were glowing with greed.

"He looks… powerful." he muttered. "It may be possible that he could… teach you to be like him."

Sloth however, scoffed. "Like me? This mortal is far too… attached to learn to change."

Sloth turned his single open eye to Mouse instead.

"You… on the other hand, little one. Might be a better student. You left you're human form years ago…"

Mouse winced. "I don't think I would make a very good bear…"

Layla however, beamed at him.

"Don't be silly! How hard could it be? Think of it as being a very large, ANGRY rat. With claws."

"The loud one is correct," Sloth confirmed. "This form is rather… powerful. When I wish it to be."

"I shall try," Mouse nodded weakly. "I'll try to be a bear, if you'll teach me."

Sloth yawned.

"How wonderful for you. I however, have no interest in teaching you. Off you trot now."

Mouse shrugged his shoulders at Layla, who was looking enraged.

"I told you he wasn't going to help us."

"Are you always this annoying or are you making a special effort today?" Layla demanded, a small thunder cloud behind her eyes, and her staff now pointing at the demon's head.

Sloth gave Layla's staff a careful eye.

"Oh, very well. You wish to learn my form, whiskered one? Then I have a challenge for you-"

"Please be joking," Layla muttered.

"-Answer three riddles correctly, and I will teach you. Fail, and I will devour you both. Whiskers and all. The decision is yours, Mortal."

Layla and mouse shared a bemused look, but Layla smiled at the creature, lowering her staff.

"I accept you're challenge, you mangy bear demon thing, you."

"Truly?" Sloth's eye opened a fraction wider. "This get's more and more promising…"

"I know, doesn't it?" Layla grinned.

Then she threw a bolt of lightening at his face.

Sloth bellowed in rage and scrambled to his feet, bloodshot eyes screaming with hate.

"Foolish Mortal!" it snarled.

Layla chucked another bolt of lightening at him.

Mouse had transformed back into a Rat and had once again buried himself in her robe.

Sloth brandished a claw and swung deftly at the young mage with surprising agility.

"Time to feast!" Sloth growled happily, slicing another claw at the tiny human.

Layla ducked and sprang forward like a cat, throwing an Arcane bolt into Sloth's enamoured belly. He whimpered and stopped attacking, but his eyes were still blazing with red fire.

"Enough! You are a pest and not worth this exertion! I will teach the tiny one to become a bear, if only to get rid of you!"

Mouse poked his head out from under her robe.

"Is it over?" he asked weakly.

* * *

><p>"Well? How do I look?" Mouse asked, sounding bemused.<p>

"You look like a great sodding bear, Mouse," Layla informed him happily, giving him a quick pat on the nuzzle.

"It feels… heavy." he said after a moment.

Sloth stared at him with vague resignation.

"Close enough," he decided.

"Go then, and defeat your precious demon… or whatever it was you were intending to do. I have grown weary of your mortal prattling."

Layla and Mouse scuttled back down the slope, Mouse seemed to be enjoying his new form, raising up on his muscular hind legs and bearing his teeth proudly.

Several more flashes of light bothered them on the return journey, revealing themselves as a pack of Sprit wolves. Between spell and Claw, they were quickly dispatched.

Layla gave Valor a quick wave as they ran past him, earning a steely glare in return.

Once again, Layla could smell the smoke winding up her nostrils. She was ready this time, and did not begin to choke.

The flames of the circle were blazing far higher than she remembered.

"Ok," she said quietly. "Are we ready for this? Tell me we're ready for this, Mouse."

The huge bear gave a nod.

"We are ready."

As if on cue, the numerous flame pits spluttered and blazed into new life as a powerful being manifested itself in the flame.

"And there is a spirit of Rage! Mouse announced, pawing the ground.

Layla stared at the creature. It seemed to be living flame itself, and as it turned to view them with it's tiny black eyes, she felt a wave of heat pass over her that caused her to flinch.

"And so it comes to me at last!" The Rage Demon spat, throwing it's molten arms wide.

"Hello!" Layla said brightly, clutching her staff tight.

"Soon I shall see the land of the living with YOUR eyes, creature! You shall be mine, body and soul!"

"How about "never?" Layla responded. "Is "never" good for you?"

"Amusing…" The demon growled. "Have you not told it of our… arrangement, mouse?"

Mouse was back in his human form, standing tall and defiant.

"We don't have an arrangement! Not anymore!"

The flames seemed to glow brighter and hotter.

"Aww…" The Rage demon replied. "And after all those wonderful MEALS we have shared? Now suddenly the little mouse has changed the rules?"

Mouse glared. "I'm not a mouse now! And soon I won't have to hide! Not from you, not from anyone!"

"Could we move this along?" Layla asked. The heat was starting to make her feel faint.

"Oh we shall!"

The Rage Demon lurched forward, spitting red hot balls of magma at his foes. Layla yelped and sidestepped, narrowly missing the powerful attack. Mouse transformed into his new bear form and charged forward with a bellowing raw, clawing at the demon with razor sharp claws. The Rage demon responded with more fire attacks, blasting our a wave of flame like a shockwave; sending the bear flying. Layla screamed as her robe caught fire, and she began desperately slapping the small flame with her hand to extinguish it.

Mouse clamoured to his four feet and continued his attack, striking the spirit with full force; the sprit, unable to withstand the bludgeoning, melted into the flame and appeared at the far end of the circle. Layla finally succeeded in extinguishing the flames and began to throw spell after spell at the hissing demon, each one slamming into the boiling flame like a cannonball. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the Rage demon spluttered and collapsed, its flaming body soaking into the earth.

And then it was gone, with nothing but a smouldering pile of ash to betray that it was ever there.

Layla approached the area where the demon had died and kicked the pile of ash with a foot.

"You did it!" Mouse said, overjoyed and now back in his human form. "You actually did it!"

Layla smiled sagely. "Was there ever any doubt?"

Mouse returned the smile. "When you came, I hoped that maybe you might be able to… but I never really thought any of you were worthy!"

Layla's smile faded a little. Her green eyes drawn back to the spluttering ashes.

"I'm not sure…" she muttered. "This was a little too easy…"

Mouse laughed, his dull eyes sparkling. "That is because YOU are a TRUE mage! One of the few!"

His expression descended into a sad frown,

"The others, they never had a chance. The Templars set them up to fail, like they tried with you."

Layla was still watching the ashes, frowning. _This had been easy. Way too easy_.

"I regret my part in it…" Mouse continued. "But you have shown me that there is hope. You can be so much more that you know…"

Layla turned her green eyes on Mouse as if she had never seen him before.

"And what," she began delicately, "Did you believe you could get from me?"

"You defeated a demon! You completed your test! With time, you will be a master enchanter with no equal!"

"Well, that's true enough," she responded, unsmiling.

Mouse took a step forward, dull eyes glinting with… something. Hunger? Hate? Desperation?

"And maybe there's hope in that for someone as small and as… forgotten as me."

Another step.

"If you want to help…"

Step.

"There may be a way for me to leave here, to get a foothold outside…"

Step.

"You just need to want to let me in…"

STEP.

Layla held her ground. And she smiled at him.

"You know, I'm starting to think that the other demon wasn't my test."

Mouse stared at her. Disbelieving. "What! What are you… of course it was! What else is there in this realm that could harm an apprentice of your potential?"

Layla held her ground, her face set in stone.

She raised her staff.

Mouse chuckled.

"You are a smart one."

"Don't I know it." She replied coolly.

Mouse continued to speak, but his voice was warping, becoming deep and demonic.

"**Simple killing is a warrior's job. The real dangers of the fade are preconceptions, careless trust… Pride."**

Mouse exploded in a burst of light, a shining white that stretched and expanded until it was towering far over Layla's head. It was purplish is colour, armour plated and its many claws were like scythes.

It glared down at the tiny mage as the white energy steadily grew brighter and brighter.

"**Keep your wits about you, Mage. True tests never end."**

* * *

><p>Th<em>anks for reading! hope you enjoyed it! please take a moment to write off a quick review, i'll be sure to get back to you. :)<em>


	3. Bound In Blood And Magic

**Dragon Age: Blood Of The Magi.**

**Chapter 3: Bound In Blood And Magic**

* * *

><p><em>Layla's Song.<em>

_Deep in the ocean, dead and cast away_  
><em>Where innocence is burned, in flames<em>  
><em>A million mile from home, I'm walking ahead<em>  
><em>I'm frozen to the bones, I am...<em>

_A soldier on my own, I don't know the way_  
><em>I'm riding up the heights of shame<em>  
><em>I'm waiting for the call, the hand on the chest<em>  
><em>I'm ready for the fight, and fate<em>

_The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head,_  
><em>The thunder of the drums dictates<em>  
><em>The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead's<em>  
><em>The rising of the hoards, ahead<em>

_From the dawn of time to the end of days_  
><em>I will have to run, away<em>  
><em>I want to feel the pain and the bitter taste<em>  
><em>Of the blood on my lips, again<em>

_This deadly burst of snow is burning my hands,_  
><em>I'm frozen to the bones, I am<em>  
><em>A million mile from home, I'm walking away<em>  
><em>I can't remind your eyes, your face.<em>

_(Lyrics by woodkid)_

* * *

><p>A flash of blinding white light completely wiped the Fade from view, as she was torn away from an previously untameable nightmare.<p>

"Are you alright?" a voice asked. It was oddly familiar.

Layla felt like her body had been squeezed through a sieve, and she kept her eyes shut tight. Her head was killing her. What if this was another demon trick? What if she was still in the Fade, and Mouse was waiting for her to show the slightest hint of weakness? Of pain? Why would he have given up so easily otherwise?

She shifted slightly. Her body, although aching, felt pleasantly… solid.

"Say something please!" The disembodied body begged again. It wasn't a very insistent tone… more sort of… desperate.

She decided to risk it. Sorry, but to the flames with it. She wasn't going to lie around in the fade fearing to open her eyes for the rest of her life.

She wasn't a blighted Chantry initiate!

She flicked open an emerald eye, just a little, and squinted hard as the owner of the nervous voice slowly faded into focus.

The man was standing over her, his moderate features full of concern.

"…Jowan?" she managed to say. It was little more than a croak, but Jowan's face broke into a huge smile of relief.

"I'm glad you're alright!" he said, carefully helping her sit up. At least she didn't bang her head on this maker-cursed bunk bed this time.

"Where…?" she asked, senses still reeling.

"The Templars carried you in this morning. I didn't even realise you'd been gone all night!"

"The Templars…? ugh." she held on to Jowan's supporting arm for a moment, and then she was steady.

Jowan smiled weakly at her, showing her a familiar book with his free hand.

"All I could find was this…"

She took in the title:

"_From Beyond the Veil: Spirits and Demons, by Enchanter Mirdromel"_

Several of the thick yellow pages were obviously loose, and the think spine, made of some sort of woody material, also seemed to have taken a nasty scrape.

Layla's head gave another venomous throb. She wished she knew a decent rejuvenation spell. _But No! she had to be more interested in casting fireballs…_

She noticed that a couple of the other apprentices were milling about, either out of concern or out of curiosity. Probably both.

She gave them a feeble wave, earning waves and jealous glares in return as Jowan sat himself down beside Layla on her bunk, ruined book under arm, eyeing her with concern.

"Where did you go? Was it you're Harrowing?"

Layla made a non-committable "Hmm" and made a task of inspecting her gnawed fingernails.

She could imagine Jowan's dark eyes widening like a curious five year old apprentice as he continued, "I've heard about mages who never come back from Harrowings. Is it dangerous? What was it like?"

"Finn's going to kill me," she complained suddenly, snatching the large book out of Jowan's surprised hand and thanking him with a gracious grin.

"Yes, but what was-"

"He never forgave me last time when I doodled a picture of a High dragon in the margin-"

"Layla, what was-"

"-It was a cute picture. The Dragon was chasing after Knight Commander Greagoir and-"

"Layla, Stop it! The harrow-"

"- The dragon was like, "RAWR!" and Greagoir was all, "Eep!" I-"

Jowan shuffled up a little closer. "Oh, stop it! Please. What was the Harrowing like?"

Layla avoided eye contact for a moment more, flicking a spec of dust from the tome with a finger. Then, feeling Jowan's eyes slowly borrowing into her defences, she relented.

"It was… harrowing." she replied finally.

Jowan obviously wasn't content with that. He edged even closer, a strange gleam in his eyes.

"Look, I know I'm not supposed to know, but we're friends-"

"Oh no!" Layla protested, setting down her book with meticulous uncare. "Don't play the friendship card! I hate it when people play the friendship card!"

Jowan looked at her like a Mabari puppy waiting for a treat. Not that she had ever seen a Mabari of course, but she bet they had the exact same doe eyed expression.

She wanted a Mabari puppy she quickly decided. What would she call it?

"Is Scamper a good name for a dog?" She asked suddenly, eyes glittering.

"Stop avoiding my questions! just a hint!" he begged. "I won't tell! Promise!"

"Oh, very well…" She relented, rolling her eyes. And still thinking of her imaginary Mabari.

She took a moment to ward off a single brown hair that was resting over her face, then fixed him with a sparkling stare.

"I was thrown into the fade and had an epic battle of wits with a talking rodent."

Jowan stared.

"A… rodent? Like a Rat?"

"He was positively charming until he tried to possess me,"

"Oh. A… demon?" Jowan said, nodding.

"I suppose that makes sense. They want to see if you can resist a demon and stop yourself from becoming an abomination…"

Layla swung her feet over Jowan's head and placed them experimentally on the floor, savouring the feel of solidarity she had taken for granted in the past.

She rose to her feet and gave a little twirl, her dark blue apprentice robe swishing around her like a spinning top; finishing on Jowan, who was still sitting on her bed, looking rather wretched.

She frowned. "Hey, what's wrong?"

"It's just…" he shook his head slowly. "You know. You've done you're Harrowing and you get to move into the fancy Mages quarters upstairs. I've no idea when I'll get called for my Harrowing."

She smiled reassuringly at him and patted his head.

"Don't worry so much about it."

"Easy for you to say," he responded like a sulky teenager, eyes cast at the floor.

"I've been here longer than you have! Sometimes I think they just don't want to test me…"

Layla frowned. That was certainly true. Jowan was one of the oldest apprentices in the tower. This wasn't the first time she had wondered why the test was taking so long. Jowan had never been truly comfortable with his magic; always comparing himself to superior mages and getting frustrated with his own lack of results.

She sat back down beside him, green eyes glittering.

"Hey… don't worry about it alright? Everyone does a Harrowing-"

"The tranquil never go through a Harrowing," he pointed out coolly. Layla shuddered. The Tranquil disgusted her. No, that wasn't fair. What HAD been done to them disgusted her. The Tranquil had once been Mages, real people who laughed and cried and loved. Not anymore. A Tranquil mage went through some sort of ritual in which they're connection to the Fade was cut off , resulting a soul less, loveless being.

It was very beneficial to the Chantry however, Layla reflected bitterly. A cost-free work force who would work without question, creating Lyrium enriched potions and enchanted items, all sold for extravagant sums; straight into the Chantry's ever growing pile of gold sovereigns.

"Or they might just kill me," Jowan continued, his eyes glazing. Layla squeezed his arm.

"They're not going to kill you, Jowan."

"They might not. But the rite of Tranquillity is just as bad… maybe worse."

He turned to face her, Layla was startled by the raw fear in his eyes. She had never seen him like this before.

"Apprentices can be made be asked to be made Tranquil if they fear the Harrowing. But the Circle also forces Tranquillity on those they feel are weak."

"Stop talking like this!" Layla reprimanded. "You are NOT weak, Jowan."

Jowan shook his head sadly and rose to his feet, avoiding her eyes.

"I shouldn't waste you're time on this. I was supposed to tell you to see Irving as soon as you woke up."

"Andraste's flaming hairpins…" Layla muttered, scrabbling to her feet. "Where is he? Do you know?

"He said, he'll be in his study. You better not keep him."

Jowan made to leave, but Layla caught his arm, forcing him to look at her.

"Jowan listen, I'll try and get some answers from Irving. Find out what's going on, alright?"

Jowan nodded weakly. "Thanks, you're a good fri-"

"Oh no," she said, smiling at him and tucking her book under her arm. "Don't go making me feel warm and fuzzy now. I hate feeling warm and fuzzy."

Jowan actually laughed and waved goodbye, saying he was going to meet that mysterious girl he liked, leaving Layla alone with her gnawing concerns.

* * *

><p>The Library of Kinloch Hold was something of a Ferelden wonder, with only the legendary underground dwarveen city of Orzammar and the Great Library of Minrathous boasting greater varieties of literature; but to be perfectly honest, those libraries weren't exactly the most accessible to the Mages. The Circle library contained writings concerning the Fall of Arlathan, all the way to how to do a decent Itch hex without causing some sort of terrible permanent skin condition. It a place for Mages of all schools and talents to practice their fine art in comparative quiet.<p>

At least that was the theory.

A mage had broken the concentration of every apprentice and Templar in the room.

"You… you… Delinquent!"

"Finn, look. I can explain-"

"EXPLAIN! LOOK AT IT! LOOK!" Finn yelled in a high pitched wail, waving the book in front of her nose as if it was some sort abomination gets mankind.

"THIS PAGE IS TORN! And… oh. Oh no. A SCRATCH ON THE COVER! This is REAL Sylvan!"

"Real Sylvan?" Layla asked, her eyes lighting up in curiosity. "Those trees that walk around?"

"Don't change the subject!" Finn snapped. "I'm on to you and your… ways!"

Layla started denying everything, but Finn looked like he had just been possessed by a rage demon. His pale features were bright red and his cheeks were puffed out like some sort of balloon.

"This is just-"

"Florian Phineas Horatio Aldebrant Esquire!" Layla retorted indignantly, causing Finn to flinch.

"I hate it when you call me that," he replied meekly, still holding the damaged book.

With a sigh Layla took a step forward and put an arm around him, he resisted for a moment but finally failed to ward off her huge apologetic green eyes.

"I'm so sorry about the book, Finn," She cooed. "I fell asleep reading it and it got trampled by a clumsy Templar when he came to drag me to my harrowing."

Finn's eyes widened. "You… took the Harrowing?"

Layla nodded.

"But that's… wonderful! I had no idea!" he cried. "I would hug you, but you know… I don't want to crease my robes."

But he beamed at her all the same. "Oh! This is fantastic! You'll get your own room! With walls! And a shelf! An actual shelf to put… put BOOKS on! And… and-"

Layla laughed and patted her friend on the arm. "Thank you, Flora. I'm sorry about the book-"

"Forget the book!" he retorted, forgetting to even be annoyed about being referred to as "flora"

"Already done!"

Finn frowned.. "No. wait. Don't forget the book.-

"What book?"

Finn sighed and collapsed into a chair, placing the damaged tome in front of him with resignation.

"This is a second edition," he mumbled sadly, "Never going to get another like this…"

Layla sighed and propped herself down opposite him. She could register harsh instructions being hissed behind the bookshelves.

"_An area of affect spell is not something to be taken lightly! If you lack the sufficient will to control it, the exertion could kill you!"_

"_Ki-Kill me?"_

"_Yes! So what must we remember?"_

"_I could DIE!"_

Layla smirked at the distant exchange and focussed her attention back on Finn, who was still muttering sweet nothings to the book in front of him.

"Oh," Finn said suddenly, "A Sylvan is not just a tree that walks around, It's a tree that has been possessed by a vengeful spirit."

"Hey Finn," she said, as if he hadn't said anything and leaning forward, elbows on the table. "Have Mages ever been allowed pets?"

Finn raised an eyebrow. "Pets? Why on EARTH would you want a pet? They have fleas… and… other things."

"So we're not allowed?"

Finn lent back in his chair, his eyes screwed in concentration. "Well, I heard something about pet owls in the Circle in Dairsmuid once. But you know… _Droppings."_

Layla sighed and rose to her feet. "That's a shame. Mind you, an Owl would be easier to hide than a Mabari…"

"Please tell me you're not going to sneak in an Owl…"

"You're right. A Mabari would be easier to hide. They don't fly, do they?""

She bid Finn farewell when it became clear he was no longer listening, but he was far too absorbed in the damaged book to make much of his usual fuss.

* * *

><p>Irving's study was mercifully, on the second floor of the tower; So Layla was in no need to rush. She took a quick moment to greet Owain, one of the Tranquil. He was a middle aged man, his hair thinning and his expression always one of complete and utter calm. The seal of the sun had been branded onto his head.<p>

Layla had read how cattle were branded by their owners, and this was exactly the same thing. It simply showed that the Chantry "Owned" the Tranquil. She felt a sudden stab of anger flow through her, but she smiled at the poor bastard nonetheless. It wasn't his fault. She knew who was to blame.

"Hello, Owain!" she said with forced cheer, grinning at him.

Owain regarded her with dead eyes. "Welcome to the circle's stockroom of magical items. How may I assist you?"

"You always say that,"

Layla smile faded slightly, and she excused herself after a few moments, growing uneasy with the cool stare she received in exchange for her jokes and charm.

She breezed through the upper level, stopping temporally to have a chat, somewhat involuntary, with Senior Enchanter Sweeney. An old man who really should have been declared technically dead a few years ago. He wasn't much for talking, mostly because he couldn't actually remember who she was.

"You really don't remember who I am?" She had asked indignantly.

Sweeney had given an awkward chuckle like dry reeves and Layla was pretty sure he was talking to the bookshelf as she drifted away, pausing briefly when she heard someone talking in hushed tones.

"_That's not likely, the Chantry would do something before It came to that,"_

Layla felt a wave of curiosity overwhelm her, and stopped in her tracks. Someone was talking in the next bookshelf row, perhaps two or three, judging by the voices.

"_Will they? They havnt done anything and I've heard the antiquarians are starting to soften a little on the Libertarian position"_

Layla rolled her eyes.

Circle politics. Fan-Blight-tastic.

She had never really been interested in the various fraternities of the circle, as far as she was concerned the argument narrowed down to "shall we, shant we start a revolution?" Layla scrunched up her face to remember the various fractions. Now, There were the Antiquarians… they were the big boys, believing that all Mages should stand by a strict code of morals. Pretty dull, In Layla's opinion, since the rules forbade the keeping of Pets and the right to have an actual LIFE.

The second voice had mentioned the Libertarians as well, they were the rebels. The revolutionists of the Magi, seeking a complete self regulating order separate from the Chantry. They seemed to have by far the most fun of all the fraternities, Layla thought, she was willing to bet a gold sovereign they had great parties as well.

"_Sympathy for the position is not the same as support. Yet. As far as I know, most antiquarians are still allied with the loyalists,"_

And the Loyalists were two swords short of a Militia band, as far as Layla was concerned.

"_You can see why, don't you? Just think of what the chantry would do if the Circles were petitioning for more independence, or even split."_

That would certainly liven up things slightly, Layla thought with a wry smile. The second voice seemed to agree with her.

"_Won't be pretty,"_

Won't be boring, either.

"_Ah, those short sighted Libertarians. They'll get their way and take us all down with them."_

Layla couldn't hold her overactive tongue anymore, and made to approach the mages when she heard the clanging of armour just behind her. She whirled on her feet and found herself face to Sword of mercy armour plated chest.

"Umm," she said, "hello,"

"Oh!" the Templar said with a rather familiar voice. "Um, Layla! Hello… I… um,"

Layla narrowed her eyes at the Templar's small visor, seeing a pair of dark brown eyes filled with panic.

"Cullen?" she asked, unsure. If it wasn't Cullen, he must be a very green recruit to be so damn shaky.

"Oh, the helmet. Right…" The Templar lifted up his two hands and wrenched off the winged helmet, revealing the somewhat nervous face of Templar Cullen. His short dark blond hair was beaded with sweat. Odd. It was always pretty cold in the tower…

"I… just. Came to find you. To you know, apologise about last night."

"Last night?" Layla mock wondered, then she sparked, "Oh, you mean when you tore me from my bed and ripped my favourite book, THEN you threw me into the fade!"

Cullen visibly blanched with horror at her reaction, and looked as if he was considering to actually grovel when Layla burst out laughing.

"Ha! Got you!" she giggled, and Cullen looked relieved. Confused, yes. But also relieved. "I was glad to get it over with, Cullen. And here I am, no worse for wear. Just don't do it again, alright?"

"I… uh, I'm just glad you're all right. You know."

Layla appraised him suspiciously. "I thought all Templars liked killing mages?"

"Maybe some," Cullen thought, thinking of Ser Rylock and Ser Grayshaw. They took it all a bit too… far. "But not me,"

"It's my job to hunt down apostate mages, but… I do with a heavy heart."

Layla smiled at him despite herself. Cullen was a very strange Templar. He didn't really get the whole

"Hate all mages" thing.

"I Shouldn't distract you for your duties…"

"Oh, you're not distracting. I mean, you are, but… well you're not. I mean, you can talk to me anytime you want."

Layla stared at him with a raised eyebrow. "Are you alright? You were looking pretty ill yesterday as well. I swear, it's the cooking. They just-"

"Oh, I'm fine!" he protested, starting to back away blushing profusely. "I should go. Ser Wesley is leaving for Lothering and I… Erm."

He practically ran away afterwards, leaving Layla wondering if the conversation had ever actually happened.

She continued on her way, saying a quick hello to Senior Enchanter Leorah on the way, the newly promoted Elf was looking a bit out of sorts.

"Are you OK?" Layla had asked.

"Fine!" She had yelled back slightly over-loudly, casting quick terrified glances at the huge stock room doors as if they were going to exploded open with the full force of the Maker any moment.

Layla deliberately avoided the small Chantry Chapel, Partly because that crazy self loathing accident-waiting-to-happen Kelli was in there, and partly because she just didn't need reminding how much of a blight the Mages were on the oh so fair land Of Thedas.

As she walked past, a heated argument seemed to be growing louder and louder, echoing from Irving's office. Two voices, one she recognised instantly as First Enchanter Irving's, a dry reed of a voice, usually full of patience and dry humour; And another, harsh and grumpy, who she was pretty sure was Knight Commander Greagoir.

"Many have already gone to Ostagar! Wynne, Uldred, and most of the senior mages! We've committed enough of our own to this war effort-"

"Your own?" Replied Irving's voice, full of gentle sarcasm. "Since when have you felt such kinship with the mages, Greagoir? Or are you afraid to let mages out from under Chantry supervision, where they can actually use their Maker-given powers?"

Layla edged closer to the door as the voices continued to rise, her mind reeling.

There was a war going on? When had that happened? Had Orlais invaded again?

"How dare you suggest that!" Greagoir growled back. Layla could imagine him taking a threatening step closer to the first enchanter, and the stubborn man holding his ground.

"If King Cailan wants more loose mages for his glory hunt, he'll have to come to the Tower himself!"

Layla shrank away from the door as Greagoir stormed out, his face a thunder cloud and his heavy Templar armour clanking on the stone steps as he swept past, not even bothering to acknowledge her.

Layla waited for him to fade out of eye-shot then poked her head around the office archway.

"Umm… first Enchanter?"

Irving had sat himself behind his desk. Or perhaps, Slumped behind his desk, judging by how He looked completely exhausted, but his eyes glittered warmly when he looked at her.

"Ahh…" he smiled. "Welcome back, child. I congratulate you on passing the Harrowing. Your Phylactery has been sent to Denerim-"

Layla gave a shiver. She had only been a little girl at the time, perhaps no more than four or five, when one of the Templars had advanced on her, backing her into a corner with a Silverite knife that glittered ominously. A flash of agonising pain, and the sight of her blood being scraped from the wound and into a small Vial.

The Templars had then taken almost perverse enjoyment in telling her they would always be able to tell where she was. No matter how far she managed to run, or how well she disguised herself. The Phylactery was her leash, just another cage that the Templar order imprisoned her in.

"-You are officially a mage within the circle of Magi," Irving finished, positively beaming at her.

Layla felt an old prickle of anger rise up under her friendly exterior.

"That's it?" she heard herself say. "After throwing me to the wolves? Well, the demons…Well- Actually there was this demon disguised as a rat so-"

Irving raised a weary hand. "We've all been through it child,"

Irving rose slowly to his feet and walked over to a large chest sitting on the back wall. It was plain brown wood, and Layla wouldn't have noticed it If Irving hadn't started tinkering with the lock with a large brass key.

"Now, as a true mage of the Circle, I hereby present you with your staff-"

Irving pulled a large wooden object from the chest, and handed it to her. She gratefully took it. The staff was made of some type of wood she was unfamiliar with. It didn't feel like Oak or Sylvan, but it was obviously ancient, and it was as hard as Veridium. Layla gazed at it with wonder, and sent off a quick spark of red light to test it's handling. The Lyrium infused wood sparkled and glowed, almost with a life of it's own.

Irving smiled patiently as she continued to inspect the staff, and when she finally tore her eyes away from her first true staff and back to him, he continued.

"-I also present you with your robes and a ring bearing the Circle's insignia. Wear them proudly, for you have earned them."

Layla took a quick moment to inspect her new robes, they were made of some sort of silky material, far softer than her scratchy apprentice robes; and they were bright gold. The gorgeous garment was obviously enchanted as well, as it seemed to give a quiet hum.

The ring was a simple piece of Silverite. She recognised it as the Ring that all the enchanters wore. It was a pretty thing, and she happily slipped it on her finger.

"Thank you, first enchanter," she said, with honest gratitude.

Irving nodded and sat himself back behind his desk, not before locking the large wooden chest shut again, much to Layla's frustration.

"What were you and Greagoir arguing about?" She asked.

Irving lent back in his ornamental chair and sighed.

"So you heard that, did you? No doubt when you were eavesdropping round the corner?"

Layla rearranged her face into one of innocent indignation. "I don't know-"

"Of course not, child," he replied. "King Cailan is building an army at Ostagar. You know of Ostagar?"

Layla nodded, "I believe it was a fortressbuilt by the Tevinter Imperium to keep an eye on Barbarians in the south, wasn't it?"

"Very good," Irving nodded, "A horde of Darkspawn have shown themselves, and King Cailan sent a messenger with a request for the Circle to send more mages."

He gave a dry chuckle. "As you heard, Greagoir was less then enthusiastic about the thought of having more mages using their gifts to defend Ferelden,"

"I've read that the Darkspawn were extinct," Layla mentioned, inwardly smiling that her years of being stuck in the tower had not been entirely un-educational.

"If only that were so," Irving said, rising to his feet. "But the king has had tremendous success, so far, and the Darkspawn shall soon be defeated, Maker willing."

"But let us talk of happier things, hmm? This has been quite an ordeal for you, and it goes without saying that you shall not discuss the harrowing with those who have not yet undergone-"

"Jowan!" Layla suddenly exclaimed, causing Irving to raise a bushy eyebrow.

"Excuse me?"

"When Is Jowan going through the harrowing? I spoke to him earlier and he was a bit out of sorts,"

"When he is ready," Irving replied.

Layla frowned at him, her new ring glinting dully as she raised her hands to underline her point.

"You could give him a bit of encouragement! He's been waiting so long that he thinks he's going to made Tranquil! Which is ridiculous, I mean-"

"How does he know this?" Irving suddenly butted in, cutting off her pre-planned speech. "I suppose the young initiate he dallies about with revealed it to him…"

Layla stared. "Jowan… and an initiate?"

"You think I didn't know?"

Layla was still processing the revelation, her mouth slightly open.

"Jowan… and an initiate? As in a chantry Initiate? A chantry initiate and Jowan? Our Jowan?"

"I did not become first enchanter by keeping my eyes and ears shut!"

Layla felt a little smile creep up on her face. That sly old dog… She didn't know he had had it in him…

"I should go, First enchanter." She said, bending and curtsying as she slowly backed out the room, her new staff on her back and her new robes under her arm.

"I have… um. Things to Jowan. I mean, to do."

* * *

><p>"Ah, there you are! Are you done talking to Irving? What are you smiling at? You havnt put an itch hex on one of the Templars again have you?"<p>

Layla grinned up at her friend, giggles slowly but surely breaking through her contorting face.

"No… No! Nothing! Nothing at all… Jowan. What's wrong? Another personal crises?"

Jowan folded his arms, a dark shadow passing over his face, he pulled her close and started whispering urgently in her ear. "Very funny. I need to talk to you. Do you remember what we discussed this morning?"

"Why are you whispering?" she whispered back. "Because we look really suspicious right about now,"

"I just want to make sure we're not overheard-"

"That would be the idea of whispering, yes. Are you alright? I talked to Irving, he-"

"We should go somewhere else," he hissed back. "I don't feel safe talking here… I'll explain. Come with me, please."

"Your idea of somewhere safe is the chapel?" Layla asked incredulously, as they sat themselves down in the back pew, closest to the open archway leading back into the tower's circular corridor. Layla was using her new robes as a makeshift cushion.

"The Chapel where the Templars love to come and worship? Where initiates with- oh, I see."

She noticed that one of the initiates, a very plain girl who she couldn't quite place had sat herself down next to her, making a show of dusting the Chant books.

"We can see the door from here," the girl mumbled, answering her questioning stare. "If anyone comes, we can change the subject."

"It's… Lily isn't it?" Layla asked the priest-to-be.

The girl nodded, casting furtive looks at the door and the other milling initiates. Thankfully, the door's view was still empty and the other initiates seemed preoccupied with praying to little candles.

"A couple of months ago, I told you that I…Met a girl," Jowan muttered shiftily on her other side, making it look as though he was reaching for one of the books.

"Ah." Layla said, as if this was a massive revelation that hadn't been spoiled about ten minutes ago. "Shocker. I could not be more surprised. This is brand new information!"

"I was afraid to tell anyone! Lily is becoming a chantry priest. She's taken vows… Lily's been given to the Chantry. She's not allowed to have…"

"Sex?" Layla finished helpfully.

"-Yes. If anyone finds out… we'll both be in trouble."

Layla lent back in her pew and gritted her teeth.

"I think you should rethink this relationship." she said finally.

"I won't give Lily up for anything!" Jowan said over loudly, causing Lily to frantically "Shh!" them both.

Jowan started to cough loudly as a Templar drifted past, his winged helmet sparkling in the candle light. He hovered for a moment, casting an eye over the praying mages, then left.

"This is ridiculous," Layla whispered, rising from her fake prayer. "Please don't tell me we're in here so you can talk to me about love! I'm a busy woman! I'm trying to figure out how to sneak a Mabari into the tower!"

"I wish that was the only thing I needed to talk about," Jowan said quietly, looking up at the statue of Andraste sitting in pride of place at the centre of the chapel.

"Remember I said that I didn't think they wanted to give me my harrowing? I know why. They're…going to make me Tranquil,"

"WHAT!" Layla yelled, causing Lily and Jowan to jump, as well as some nearby priests.

"Sorry," she mumbled at the terrified worshippers. "Are you sure?" she hissed at Jowan the moment the stares had faded away.

"Yes," he mumbled, his eyes moist. "They'll take everything that I am from me-my dreams, hopes, fears… my love for Lily. All gone."

Lily rose to her feet and sat herself on Jowan's other side, a hidden hand on his leg.

"They'll extinguish my humanity. I'll just be a husk, breathing and existing, but not truly living."

Layla gave his arm a squeeze. "I will not allow that to happen," she said darkly. "How did you find out about this?"

Lily tilted her head forward to whisper to her, her dark eyes full of dread.

"I saw the document on Greagoir's desk. It authorized the rite on Jowan, and Irving had signed it."

Layla felt a small know if rage tightening in her stomach.

"Those… bastards," she hissed. "Why would they do this to you?"

Jowan cast his eyes to the floor. "There's… a rumour about me. People think I'm a blood mage. They think that making me a circle mage will endanger everyone."

Blood magic. The magical practice of using blood, life itself, to fuel spells. The Chantry's almost uncontrollable fear of this bastard source of power that they were systematically grounding suspected mages into the dirt, or making them tranquil. Layla wasn't about to let that happen to her friend. The chantry could fuck it's ridiculous paranoia.

"You need to escape," she whispered, avoiding his eyes. "Seriously, you need to get out of here."

"I know," Jowan nodded sadly. "But that means I need to destroy my phylactery. Without it, they can't track me down."

"You have a plan?"

Lily gave a nod, still comforting Jowan, who was shaking slightly. "I can get us into the repository where the phylactery's are kept, but there is a problem. There are two locks on the chamber door. The First Enchanter and Knight-Commander each hold one key."

"It's just a door," Layla hissed back, and Jowan gave a nod.

"We could use a rod of fire to burn through the lock," Lily offered. "You could get one from the stockroom. But Owain doesn't release such things to apprentices,"

"Or," Layla said pointedly, "I could just blow the door of it's hinges with a fireball,"

Jowan and lily shared a fidgety look.

"Will you two relax? Look, I'm good at fire spells all right? I'm not wasting time running about when Jowan could get dragged away any minute."

"If…you're sure," Lily mumbled delicately.

"To the repository, then. Freedom awaits,"

* * *

><p>Layla took a quick moment to stop by her quarters, changing into her new robes and grabbing several Lyrium potions she had stockpiled from her recent trip into the stockroom out of hours. She grinned at herself in her new robes, the golden material hugging her form rather lovingly.<p>

A scream suddenly echoed down the hall, and Layla pointed her head out of her room, to see several Templars hurtling down the corridor, swords and shields in hand.

"What's going on?" she asked one of the Mages fleeing in the opposite direction. He stopped for a brief moment and shouted in her face, far too excited with it all. "Some Giant Spiders have burst out of the stockroom! Dozens of them!"

"How terrible," Layla said, a delighted smile spreading over her lips. The Templars would be distracted dealing with the outbreak. She grabbed her new staff, which had been resting on the wall and rushed down to the next level, practically skipping.

Jowan and Lily were milling about outside the basement entrance, doing a very poor show of pretending they weren't milling about outside the basement entrance.

Jowan looked up as Layla rushed over.

"What's going on?" he asked, a fearful look on his face. "The Templars all rushed upstairs, we thought-"

"Giant spiders stormed out of the Stockroom," Layla explained, breezing past them, down the steps and creaking open the massive wooden door.

"The Maker is on our side!" Lily said, thrilled, and rushed after her. Jowan not far behind.

* * *

><p>The Basement of Kinloch Hold was very different to the rest of the tower. The ceiling was very low, giving the mages a surprising jolt of claustrophobia. Thick, dusty cobwebs littered the corners, and the only light source came from Andraste statues, with fire spilling from their fingertips.<p>

They rounded the corner and were immediately blocked by a door.

"The Chantry calls this entrance the "victim's door," It is built of two hundred and seventy seven planks, one for each original templar,"

"You're full of fun facts, aren't you?" Layla said tartly, inspecting the door closely.

"It is a reminder of all the dangers those cursed with magic pose,"

Layla looked up at her, "Cursed" you say?"

Lily smiled an apology.

"I am merely reciting the teachings of this door, I did not say I agreed with them,"

"So how do we get past it?" Jowan asked from behind, as Layla cast her eyes back to the large barricade as well.

"The door can be opened only by a Templar and a mage, entering together. The Chantry provides the password, which primes the ward, and the mage touches it with Mana, to release it."

Layla ran a hand over the door, it felt unpleasantly warm.

"You know the password, right?" she asked.

"Of course," Lily soothed, taking a step forward to Layla's side.

"_Sword of the maker, Tears of the fade,"_

The Door gave a heavy clunk, as if some sort of unlocking mechanism had shifted.

"I heard something," Jowan said.

"The password only primes the door, mana is the final key. Any spell will do. But hurry!"

Layla grinned at the pair and took her position a few feet from the door.

She flicked out her new staff, and a flash of light faded into the door.

It opened instantly, and Layla gave a sweeping bow.

"Layla Amell, Door opener extraordinaire!"

Lily and Jowan rushed past her, making Layla feel a little put out as she followed.

The second corridor they found themselves in was slightly larger than the second, with two doors and even more cobwebs. A single suit or armour was standing near the door, possibly as a decoration.

"Maker!" Layla groaned. "Another door?"

"You said you could melt the lock off…" Jowan mumbled quietly, and Layla grinned at him.

"That I did! Now stand back…"

She breathed in then exhaled, thrusting out her hands. A stream of fire flowed from her fingertips in a blaze of heat, but before it could reach the door the spell spluttered out, and Layla gave a dull moan.

"What's the matter?" Lily asked, a note of dismay in her voice. "Why isn't it working?"

Jowan joined Layla and together they cast another burst of flame. The same conclusion, as the spell weakened and faded from existence before it reached the door.

"Well, this sucks." Layla sighed.

Lily moved closer to inspect the door, her bright initiate robe clashing spectrally with the dingy surroundings.

"These wards carved into the stone… this must be the Templars' work. They negate any magic cast within the area…. I should have guessed! Why would Greagoir and Irving use simple keys for such a door? Because magical keys don't work! How do you keep mages away from something? Make their powers completely worthless!"

Jowan kicked the door in frustration. "We're finished!"

"There must be another entrance!" Layla insisted, pulling Jowan away from the unbreakable barricade with a touch on the arm.

She nodded at the other door down the corridor.

"That door probably leads to another part of the repository," Jowan theorized.

Layla sauntered over and inspected the door, as Jowan thought of how to open it.

"Perhaps there's a-"

Layla threw a blast of fire at the door, and the force of the spell hit the group with a wall of heat; leaving them breathless as the door was thrown of it's hinges. It fell backward and hit the floor with a loud clang.

"And that's how a mage solves a problem," Layla said triumphantly, stepping smartly over the shattered wood, only for the suit of armour behind them to lurch into life with a magical clang and charge at them.

"Oh that's not good…" Jowan muttered, as the sentinel took a swipe at him with it's war axe. Layla waved her staff and an arcane bolt hit the creature square in it's chest. It wasn't as impressed as it should have been, as it turned it's attention on Layla. The two mages threw spell after spell at it, and finally a combination of Layla's winter's grasp and Jowan's paralysis ward rendering the armour into chunks of ice.

Layla gave one of the icy chunks an experimental kick with her foot.

"That was fun!" she said happily, and started skipping down the corridor to the phylactery chamber.

* * *

><p>They carried on their way, occasionally being attacked by more sentinels; but the tactics that had defeated the first proved just as effective against the new groups and they were dispatched quickly. Layla also took the opportunity to poke around in a couple of chests hidden away in the corners, finding a couple of precious amulets which she slipped gleefully into her robes pockets.<p>

They made their way through another few rooms encountering weak resistance, a little de facto livery and something that looked chillingly like a prison.

"Are mages kept down here?" Jowan asked quietly, inspecting the think iron bars.

"Someone was kept down here…" Layla replied, kicking a skeleton with the nub of her foot.

Mercifully, the cages were empty and if they was no evidence to suggest that any Mages had been imprisoned down in this dark place.

After another battle with the Sentinels, which resulted in Jowan healing a nasty graze on his forehead and with lily making cooing noises, and Layla eagerly inspecting a shining greenstone one of the creatures had dropped, they found their way into the repository.

"Wow," Layla said, looking around at the dozens of artefacts and magical items that cluttered every table and filled every shelf.

"Now this place is interesting!"

She saw a small wooden sculpture of a High dragon, it's small teeth bared into a savage roar; a Vase that she was fairly sure was from Orlais; a couple of odd, somewhat disturbing statues that Jowan believed were of Alamarri origin; A huge glass globe with some sort of delicate golden navigation tool attached; A few skulls on pedestals which species Layla wasn't familiar with; A rather spectacular three headed statue, It's body and legs reminiscent of a Mabari, but it's three heads were like snakes all with massive fangs; A man sized winged statue that Lily took a few moments to inspect with wide eyed wonder and a chest, which contained a staff made of Heartwood, which Layla gleefully snatched from it's protective case.

Another human sized statue, it's features far finer than the one Lily had inspected caught Jowan's eye.

"There's something odd about that statue," He said quietly, calling Layla and Lily over.

Layla looked at it. She had seen armour like the one this "wore" before in books.

"I think it's a statue of an Imperial mage," Layla whispered.

"_Greetings,"_ The statue suddenly said, it's voice female and calm.

They all jumped out of their skins.

"maker's breath! Did it just say something?" Jowan shouted, his eyes wide.

"_I am the essence and spirit of Eleni Zinovia, once consort and advisor to Archon Valerius, Prophecy my crime, cursed to stone for foretelling the fall of my lord's house."_

Jowan and Layla jostled each other to get closer to the statue, ignoring Lily's pleas to get away from it, calling it "evil,"

"Archon Valerius?" Layla asked. "Wasn't he a Magistar? Of the Imperium, I mean?"

"_Forever shall you stand on the threshold of my proud fortress," he said, "and tell your lies to all who pass…" But my lord found death at the hands of his enemies and his once-proud fortress crumbled to dust, as I foretold."_

"It is!" Layla grinned amazed. "A Tevinter statue! This is brillaint!"

"Don't listen to it!" Lily warned from behind the pair, her voice fearful. "The Magistars dabbled in many forbidden arts! This is a wicked thing!"

"I'm sorry for your fate," Layla said solemnly. "Getting turned into a statue and being forced to be all enigmatic for an age and a half. That must be really…. Dull."

"_Weep not for me, Child. Stone they made me and stone I am, eternal and unfeeling. And I shall endure till the Maker returns to light their fires again,"_

"That must be something we can do to help," Layla insisted, her eyes full of quiet concern.

"_No help can be given to me, Layla Amell, for this is my doom and my destiny,"_

Layla felt a chill go down her spine. "How do you know who I am?"

"_The Fade whispers of you, Mage of the circle. The Mouse is watching."_

"Mouse!" Layla jumped forward and started to shake the statue with her arms, "What did you say about a mouse!"

The statue remained silent, Jowan placed a hand on her shoulder. "We need to move, Layla. The repository is close."

Layla stared at the statue of Zinovia for a few more desperate seconds, then stepped away.

"Come on," she said quietly. "Lets go."

* * *

><p>A few fireballs and exploding walls later, the three found themselves in the Phylactery chamber.<p>

It was notably different to the stuffy, cobwebbed corridors they had been forced to navigate. The ceiling was pleasantly high for one thing, and an icy frost clung to every surface like moss; it made sense of course, the Vials obviously had to be kept at a constant low temperature, lest the Blood dried out. It was magic of course, and the fact that magic was being used to preserve something that enslaved the Mages rankled on Layla's nerves.

"We must find Jowan's phylactery quickly," Lily explained, her face pale and haggard. Her first experience of combat had not been a pleasant one.

Layla cast her eyes over the shelves of vials. There must be dozens here, but not as many as she expected; and she felt a sudden wave of frustration recalling Irving's words.

"It's a pity they've taken mine to Denerim," she said out loud, her voice echoing pleasantly on the rooms impressive acoustics.

"Would you destroy yours too, if it were here?" Jowan asked. His robe was torn in several places, but he was basically unscathed. And the glint of victory was in his eyes.

Layla smiled at him sadly.

"I wish I could escape with you," she said. "I could get my own Mabari and everything,"

"You still can," Lily insisted. "I don't think they'll be able to catch you, once you're out of here. You'd know how to evade them. You're clever… not like me."

"Well, that is true," Layla considered.

A few more sentinels attacked them out of the icy mist, taking them by surprise. Jowan froze one with a paralyzing glyph, and Layla proceeded to chip away at the creature with fire spells, hoping that the cold temperature would have made them more susceptible to heat. The battle didn't last long, but Layla was forced to take a deep glug of her Lyrium potion reserves as she found herself floundering.

After the Sentinels were dead, Jowan rushed up the stairs to the shelves displaying the phylacteries.

It was like some sort of perverse museum.

One of the phylacteries was marked "Jowan" and she eagerly grabbed it and passed it to Jowan.

"That's my phylactery! You found it! I can't believe this tiny vial stands between me and freedom!"

"Is there some sort of ritual we have to do?" Layla wondered.

"It's simple enough," Jowan said, shaking his head and he smashed the Vial on the floor.

A small pool of blood seeped into the cracks in the floor, and was quickly absorbed by the stone.

"And I am free," He said quietly, an expression of disbelief on his face.

Lily grabbed him by the arm and planted a quick kiss on the side of his lip.

"Come," she said. "I do not want to stay here a moment longer,"

Layla gave a quick nod.

"Let's go. We've all learned the value of friendship and smashing things."

* * *

><p>The return journey was quick, it seemed the chamber door was not warded on the other side, and Layla promptly blew the door off it's hinges.<p>

"I think we could have just used the knob that time," Jowan had remarked.

They rushed out of the basement, like three giddy children, invulnerable from their victory. Layla led the way, scrambling up the steps and mercifully, wrenching open the final door rather than destroying it.

They found themselves back in the Circle tower lobby.

"We did it! I can't believe it!" Jowan said, overjoyed. He wrapped Layla into a tight hug, making her laugh. "Thank you… we could never have-"

"So what you said was true, Irving,"

Jowan and Layla span around as Lily gave a gasp.

Knight commander Greagoir, Irving and a half dozen Templars had appeared in front of them.

"I assure you, this isn't what it looks like," Layla said, sweetly. Flashing her huge green eyes at the Knight Commander.

Greagoir ignored her, a cold fire of triumph was glittering behind his eyes.

"An initiate, conspiring with a blood mage. I'm disappointed, Lily."

Lily remained completely silent. Her eyes wide with panic. Layla tried to catch her eye and reassure her, but it was no use.

"She seems shocked, but fully in control of her own mind. Not a thrall of the blood mage, then. You were right, Irving. The Initiate has betrayed us. The Chantry will not let this go unpunished,"

Greagoir's fierce eyes rendered on Layla herself, she glared back defiantly.

"And this one! Newly a mage, and already flouting the rules of the circle!"

"I didn't-"

"I'm disappointed in you," Irving sighed, his crackly voice dejected. "You could have told me what you knew of this plan, and you didn't,"

"You were going to make Jowan tranquil!" Layla roared at him, causing the Templars gathered to finger the hilts of the swords.

"You signed the Rite!"

"You Don't care about the Mages!" Jowan joined in, his own voice full of rapidly building anger. "You just bow the Chantry's every whim!"

"Enough!" Greagoir roared, silencing everyone in the hall.

"As Knight-commander of the Templars here assembled, I sentence this blood mage to death!"

The six Templars slid out their swords and took a uniform step forward, full of holy purpose.

Lily screamed, and Layla stood in front of Jowan, her eyes blazing with fire.

"I won't let you do this, Greagoir." she said, quietly.

"And this initiate has scorned the chantry and her vows. Take her to Aeonar!"

The Templars advanced on them, their silver armour glinting and glowing as the winged warriors bared down on them.

Layla's hands squeezed into fists and begun to sparkle and spit with lighting.

"One step closer!" She warned.

Lily meanwhile, was backing away. "The… Mages prison. No… Please, no. Not there!"

Suddenly, everything went very, very wrong.

Jowan screamed "No! I won't let you touch her!" And Layla took her eyes off the advancing Templars and saw what he was doing.

"Jowan, No!"

Jowan pulled a knife from his robe pocket and plunged it into his hand. Thick, gloopy blood spilled out and around him, like a whirlpool.

The wave pulsed out with sudden, terrifying purpose. The two Templars closest and Layla caught the brunt of the spell and went flying, the rest, including Greagoir and Irving were slammed to the floor as if punched by a giant fist.

Layla looked up groggily. Jowan was standing there, completely covered from head to tow in blood.

Only Lily appeared unharmed. But she was backing away from Jowan now, as well.

"By the maker… Blood Magic! H-How could you? You said you never…"

"I admit, I…I dabbled." Jowan replied, blood slowly dripping from his lank hair in giant red splats.

"I thought It would make me a better mage!"

"Blood magic is evil, Jowan! It corrupts people… changes them!"

"I'm going to give it up!" Jowan whined. "All magic! I just want to be with you, Lily,"

"You lied to me! I don't know who you are, Blood Mage, Begone!"

"Are you alright?" Irving asked weakly, his staff lying forgotten by his side. "Where's Greagoir?"

"I knew it…" The man in question answered, pulling himself to his feet. "Blood magic! But to overcome so many… I never thought him capable of such power…"

The other Templars were recovering as well, slowly regaining their faculties and rising to their feet.

Layla still laid on the ground. Her whole body was arching, unlike the Templars she had had no armour to protect her self from the blow.

"He…he lied to me," she said quietly to herself. "why would he…"

Irving sighed and pulled her to her feet. "None of us expected this. Are you all right Greagoir?"

Greagoir's face was a terror to behold.

"As good as can be expected given the circumstances! If you had let me act sooner, this ever would have happened! Now we have a blood mage on the loose and no way to track him down!"

Layla was still standing, her eyes wide and uncomphrending.

"Where is the girl!" Greagoir growled. One of the Templars held her by the arm in a vice like grip, and pulled her forwards.

"I am here, Ser," she said weakly, tears flowing down her cheeks like Jowan's blood had flowed down his hands.

"You helped a blood mage!" Greagoir accused her, eyes flashing. "Look at all he's hurt!"

"She didn't-" Layla began, but Lily cut her off.

"You've been a friend, but you needn't defend me any longer."

She looked up at Greagoir.

"Knight Commander… I…I was wrong. I was accomplice to a…a blood mage. I will accept any punishment you see fit. Even… even Aeonar."

Layla made to rush to her, but a Templar grabbed her by the arm and squeezed. Layla yelped in pain as the grey iron gauntlets bit into her flesh and held her back.

"Get her out of my sight!" Greagoir roared, and Lily's Templar dragged her from the room.

Greagoir turned his ire on her. Layla looked up at him defiantly.

"And you! You know why the repository exists, some artefacts- some magic's-are locked away for a reason!"

"Did you take anything from the repository?" Irving asked.

Layla felt the dozen babbles and jewels she had stolen grow slightly heavier.

"No," she said lightly.

Irving watched her carefully for a moment, then nodded. "very well I believe you."

"But your antics have made a mockery of this circle! What are we to do with you?"

"Let me go?" Layla said quietly, a weak smile on her face.

Greagoir advanced on her, his armour making him even more imposing. "You helped a blood mage escape! All our-"

"I didn't know he was a blood mage!" Layla roared back, refusing to be intimidated. "And you know what? I'm GLAD he escaped from here!"

Irving gave a groan. "Oh, child." he muttered, sounding exhausted. "You have assisted a maleficar, and broken a number of Circle rules."

"You are a danger," Greagoir said, his voice now low and calm. "You are a danger to all of us,"

Layla stared, and made a vain attempt to shrug off her templar. "What are you trying to say? That I'm a blood mage as well?"

Greagoir simply nodded.

Irving sighed. "There is nothing I can do, child. This is out of my hands now."

Layla felt her blood turn to ice. "What are they going to do to me?" she asked quietly.

"You shall be taken to the dungeons for now," Greagoir announced coolly. "And there you shall await sentence. In this case, it is either an execution or the rite of tranquillity."

Then Layla started to really struggle. She gave a scream of desperation as her Templar received a nod from Greagoir and started to drag her towards the dungeon. She attempted to fry him with lightening, but the Templar was applying his own anti-magic ward.

"You can't do this!" she yelled at the fading figures of Greagoir and Irving.

"I'm not a blood mage! I'm NOT A BLOOD MAGE!"

Then her templar hit her hard on the head, and everything went to black.

* * *

><p>She snapped open her eyes, her head felt like it had been split open like a watermelon, and her brains were slowly spilling over the hard stone floor.<p>

Maker, she was freezing. She looked down, and she was wearing nothing but their small clothes. She looked around the small room she found herself in. And with a cold creeping realisation, she realised she was in one of the cells she had passed by earlier.

She couldn't believe it. The Templars were really going to kill her. It was going to happen.

"So you're awake then?" A voice said. "Thank the maker, I got so bored of talking to your unconscious body! The conversation was a bit one sided… but Still..."

Layla whirled around, and a mage was smiling at her in the next door cell. He was also just in his smalls but didn't seem to fussed about it.

He looked her up and down then gave her a wink.

"...Nice view,"

He was covered in cuts and bruises, and his once blonde hair was dirty and dishevelled.

"Who…?" She croaked.

"You may call me Anders, My dear lady," he said smiling. "And we are both in a bit of trouble."

* * *

><p>Bit of a long chapter that one, thanks for reading!<p>

any reviews would be fantastic!


	4. Tears Of The Fade

_Thanks to all the reviewers so far! You're all name checked below, and i hope to hear more from all of you. you make this worthwhile._

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><p><em><strong>We could blame, the worlds forever**_

_**we could just escape together/**_

_**So are we just breaking out or are we breaking down?**_

_**We can't escape this world forever, this world forever.**_

**-Bullet for my valentine - Breaking out breaking down-**

* * *

><p>"So what's a pretty Mage like you doing in a place like this?"<p>

Layla gave a sour laugh. The stone was cold under her bare crossed legs, and her naked spine was grinding slightly against the grey iron bars she was leaning on, yet she was strangely comfortable.

What was she doing here?

_Good question_, Layla reflected glumly, looking around at her surroundings.

The cell was small, perhaps three or four long strides from stone wall to stone wall. The grey iron bars were thick, solid and built tightly together, the gap was too small for her to even fit her hand through. A small pile of leathery rags made up her bed, and dust and cobwebs were her bed mates.

And Maker…was it boring down here. The lack of sunlight quickly caused her to lose track of time, with only meal times allowing her to keep a mental note on the passage of time.

Twice a day, a Templar came and gave both her and Anders a small bowl of some sort of grey gruel, that Anders had cheerfully said was an improvement on the standard Circle cooking.

"I don't suppose you have any salt?" he had asked the faceless Templar tartly when the winged knight had pushed the bowl of grey stuff into his cell.

Layla had eyed her own "meal" apprehensively.

"Charming as a rabid Deepstalker with a variety of interesting skin diseases, that one." Anders had yelled after the retreating Templar.

Layla had laughed and also joined in the fun, yelling:

"And that goes the same, for your MOTHER!"

Anders had broken into applause. "Well played. Well played, indeed."

When Layla had first awoken, she had put every fibre of her being into figuring out some way to escape. She had tried blowing the bars off, but Anders had glumly told her that the cells were warded.

"No magic, I'm afraid," he had said, picking lumps unenthusiastically out of his gruel and flicking them out of his cell.

"Stops Mana then?" Layla wondered, running a finger over the stone.

She was sure that far above her head, Knight-Commander Greagoir was filling out the paperwork to have her thrown into the proverbial fire, and that Irving was doing his very best to forget she had ever existed.

That bastard Jowan had done this to her. He had left her to die like some sort of bloody martyr…

She had kicked her uneaten bowl of whatever-it-was away and slumped against the bars to Ander's cell, and he had asked her how she had gotton here in the first place.

Her sour laugh had echoed quietly around the prison, bouncing and rebounding off the stone, sounding increasingly hollow.

"I helped a mage escape," she told him. "Didn't go so well for me."

"Good days work," Anders said, he was also sitting with his back against the bars in his own cell, mirror image to her position. Their heads were separated by just an inch of metal barring. She could almost feel the heat from his body through the cell bars.

Almost.

"Who was it?"

Layla told him the story, Telling it mostly as it had happened, perhaps adding a few more sentinels and Templars for good measure, with Anders listening quietly throughout, interrupting to only ask a question about the talking Tevinter statue.

"This Zinovia woman, was she a Magistar as well?" he had wondered.

Layla had shrugged. "Possibly. She said she was consort to one of those-What are they called?- Arch-er-on people,"

He had then remained quiet until she finished her story.

"Jowan was a blood mage? Jowan? The nervous one who jumped at loud noises?"

"Yup,"

She felt Anders shake his head. "Moron. Good on him for escaping, but… _moron."_

"He was never the brightest wisp in the fade." Layla agreed.

"What? No! He's a moron because he left a pretty thing like you behind! Seriously, what the hell was he thinking!"

Layla gave a snort as Ander's muttered "moron" again.

"And what about you? Last thing I heard from Finn, you were sightseeing in Orlais! Did you enjoy the sights? I've heard they have some really nice wine."

Anders gave a snort. "Orlais? I didn't reach West hill! Forgot my map, you see. Rookie mistake. I've a terrible sense of direction at the best of times. I was aiming for Amaranthine, but I'm going round in circles and I stumble across this little village. Very quaint it was as well, pretty as a painting. So there I was, in this village full of shifty looking merchants and stuck-up wives and I walk over and ask this tall guy for directions-"

"He was a templar wasn't he?"

"Got it in one," Ander's replied. "It was that Ser Grayshaw. Didn't recognize him without that armour they're so fond of, and he stared at me, then-"

"He slugged you, didn't he?"

"Yep," Ander's said brightly. "And here I am!"

"And here you are!" Layla finished over brightly. "With me! Oh, we'll laugh about this one day."

"Got a plan on escaping then? I'm game."

Layla rose to her feet and gave one of the grey Iron bars an experimental poke.

"Give me three hours," she said happily. "Seriously, they'll write ballads about how the brave, clever and lets face it -completely _gorgeous- _Layla and her sidekick Anders escaped the dreaded Circle dungeon!"

"I resent sidekick! I prefer… _lover."_

* * *

><p>The Interior of the Spoiled Princess was dark and empty, only a small smouldering fire providing a faint flickering glow in the room. The Inn's occupants included Three Templars, all in their heavy Grey Iron armour, winged helmets lying temporally forgotten by the fire. They had been sitting in heavy silence for twenty minutes, moodily gulping their drinks; and the Innkeeper himself, who had been watching the Chantry soldiers out of the corner of his eye, rubbing the same glass with the same filthy rag as he did.<p>

"Two weeks," One of the Templars growled. He was clearly the senior of the three, his short hair was a mottled grey, matching his cold grey eyes which flickered and glittered menacingly in the weak firelight.

He took a glug of his beer and slammed down the glass.

"Two-blighted-weeks searching for one maleficarum!"

The other two Templars looked fidgety, clearly waiting for the other to answer.

"I had to travel all the way to Wurtherford." The youngest of the Templars replied glumly after a moment. He was glinting through his murky glass with one eye.

The oldest gave a snort. "Yes, and we all know why you went _there _Carroll!"

The one called Carroll almost dropped his glass, and started to practically whither into his armour under his seniors fierce glare.

"Ser Grayshaw, I-"

"Save it," Grayshaw retorted, casting his steely gaze back to the fire. "Some of us take our duty seriously."

Carroll started to splutter his apologies, and was practically glared into silence.

The Innkeeper noticed the third Templar had said nothing since they had arrived, he had looked easily the glummest of the three and had kept his eyes fixed on the fireplace, watching the diminishing flame as if it was the most interesting thing in the whole of the Maker's creation.

Grayshaw gave him a rough kick under the table.

"Cullen for the love of Andraste, will you stop moping!"

Cullen lapsed from his daydreams, his eyes hazy.

"I'm sorry Ser Grayshaw." he mumbled. "This hunt has been rather draining."

Grayshaw clicked his hands and the Innkeeper nodded and began making them some more drinks. A moment later, two full glasses sat in front of Cullen and Grayshaw; Carroll looked to say something but bit his lip when he didn't receive one.

"You're young Cullen," the old one growled. "You still have the weakness of youth. Stop seeing them as people to be befriended and trusted. They are not to become either. Sometimes I think we should just perform the Rite of Tranquillity on the lot of them."

Cullen's eyes widened. "A-all of them?"

"They're a virus," Grayshaw hissed, his hands clenched into fists. "A virus at the hear of Thedas and it is our Maker-given duty to… quarantine the threat."

Cullen gave a small nod, sipping his new drink with the utmost care. He mumbled something after a moment.

"What's that, boy?"

"I thought Lay- Amell... was better than that," he said slightly louder.

Grayshaw have a snort, taking another two gulps of his new beverage.

"You'll learn, Cullen. They're all weak. All of them. It is our duty not to guard them, but to guard others from them."

Cullen gave another nod, and cast his glazy eyes back to the rapidly disappearing fire. The flickering orange was slowly crawling towards it's source, plunging everything behind it into shadow.

"I heard some rumours about Ostegar, About the king." Carroll suddenly muttered, quickly quailing under Grayshaw's gaze.

"Everyone's heard," he said, draining his glass, rising to his feet and snarling at the Innkeeper to fetch "That damn fool Kester" from his bed.

Cullen watched the last ebb of life fade from the fire, plunging the room into the dark.

"Maker help us all if it's true…" he said into the dark.

Grayshaw scowled at Ferryman Kester as he stomped towards the docks. Kinloch Hold was in the distance, proud and aloof; and the lake itself was calm and quiet. That's why he heard the hooves of a horse galloping in the distance. The Templar whirled around to see who it was. - One of his Templar hunters running late perhaps - when the horse and it's rider strode down the hill and into sight.

Grayshaw's stony face descended into a scowl as the rider trotted over to him. He was no Templar.

He was in mages robes, well worn and faded; his pointed face looked down at the Knight-Templar with distaste.

"Ser Grayshaw," drawled Senior Enchanter Uldred. "What an unpleasant surprise."

* * *

><p>"I don't think I can take much more of this…" Layla said quietly. She was sitting cross-legged in the middle of her cell, staring at the iron bars as if trying to bend them. Her hair was dirty and matted, her body was bruised and sore from the frequent Templar visits to her cell, and her frequent escape attempts.<p>

"This is so FUCKING BORING!" with a scream of frustration, she launched herself at the bars of her cell, punching and kicking like a feral animal.

Anders watched the disintegrating mage from his own cell. He decided trying to stop her would be idiotic, like trying to stop a priest being Sanctimonious.

She then rounded on the walls as if they had done her a great personnel wrong, her entire body feral and rabid. Clawing, biting. After another minute she relented, and slowly slid down Ander's cell bars collapsing to the floor with a light thump.

"Mell?" he said quietly, sitting himself down beside her cell bars.

She sat up slightly. And turned to face him, her face dirty and pale; but her eyes glittering brightly.

"Sorry about that," she said gasping. "Better now,"

"Wouldn't be the first time I've sent a woman into a frenzy," he remarked, smiling weakly.

Layla clicked her tongue. "You want to know why I'm down here, Anders?"

"I'm all ears,"

"I'm down here because the Templars are scared of me! You know that? Because they're fucking scared of me. When the others were trying to light candles with magic, I was throwing fireballs with my eyes shut and one hand behind my back! I was the quickest to do pass my Harrowing since- well, ever! They don't CARE that I helped Jowan escape, they CARE because I'm too fucking powerful! They care because I'm too fucking good!"

"You scare them," Anders pointed out. "We all scare them. I don't want much from life, just a pretty girl and the right to fire lightning at fools…"

"I just want a dog," she pointed out miserably. "The right to have a dog and to throw fireballs at Templars who are checking out my arse… Am I asking to much here?"

"You have a fine bottom, My lady. One of the best. Andraste herself must-"

"Are you trying to compare my arse with that of holist Andraste?"

"You'd wipe the floor with her. I mean, She's got a pretty nose, but…"

"I have a better arse," Layla smiled at him with puckered lips, then turned her back to him, back against the bars.

* * *

><p>Uldred was in a good mood. His arrival and the news he had bared had certainly sent the vengeful cat amongst the proverbial pigeons. The meeting really couldn't have gone better, with fellow Mages and suspicious Templars alike believing him almost without question, and He was surprised by how quickly his carefully edited tale of Ostegar had spread throughout the circle.<p>

Loghain was going to be pleased. Uldred had taken a liking to Loghain during their brief exchanges before the disastrous battle. They were both men of vision, and both their visions included more freedom for the Mages of Kinloch Hold.

And freedom was worth any price. Even the life of a king.

Would Cailan have stood tall if the Chantry had allowed a few more mages to travel to Ostegar?

Seven Mages could break an entire army with fire and ice and lighting.

The Chantry's insane paranoia would be crushed under Loghain's heel, and the mages would be allowed to use their powers to actually defend their country. No more pathetic whittling from the reverend mother, no more Templars tearing innocent mages from the fade and wiping away their souls in the name of "peace". No more gilded cages. No more…

Uldred gave a sour chuckle. He could feel himself growing angry, even thinking about it. He recalled the war council before the battle.

Himself, with the revered mother watching him with an eagle eye; King Cailan, looking somewhat resplendent in his golden armour but really didn't have a clue for the battle outside his boyish fantasies; Loghain, trying desperately to control the fool of a king and that Duncan man with his latest recruit. Uldred paused briefly on the last two; Duncan was the commander of the rag-tag group of Ferelden Grey Wardens, a group of that Uldred had always been fascinated by due to their unique and practical view on mages. A Mage who became a Grey Warden was free of the Chantry's ire, and was actually encouraged to use their powers… Even Blood magic! Blood magic was just seen as a simple tool, just how Uldred saw it; his latest recruit had seemed desperately out of her depth, perhaps even more than Cailan himself…

The plan had been simple.

The Grey wardens and a small portion of the army would hold the main entrance to Ostegar and draw the main brunt of the Darkspawn horde, and when they had been signalled, Loghain would charge the black horde's flank.

The signal was the torch at the top of the tower of Ostegar.

Uldred could have lit the thing from the bloody ground.

But no: he recalled with distaste on his face what the dear old Reverend mother had thought of that.

"_We shall not trust lives to your spells, Mage! Save them for the Darkspawn!"_

Uldred wasn't ashamed to admit, he wanted to suck the life out of that old croon at that moment. Because of her fear and ignorance, Cailan sent a green warden recruit instead.

And….

Well. What a total mess. But perhaps… _perhaps_ it was for the best.

All really ironic, really. The Chantry constantly preached to the ignorant about the need to fear magic and the risk of Demons influencing them, and the poor fools were completely unaware the true demonic influence was the one preaching at them from the pulpit.

He lent back in his chair, taking a moment to study his reflection in the small mirror on his desk.

Ostegar had certainly aged him, dark circles were present around his eyes like to cloudy moons and the screams still whispered and echoed in his dreams.

"Senior Enchanter?"

Uldred's wandering thoughts were dragged back to his present situation, sitting at his desk in his small office. He recognised the voice instantly, of course.

"Good evening Oliva," he said, looking up at her and smiling through his dark mood.

Uldred had never really been one to teach, he was unwilling to tutor young apprentices about how to accept their prison and how to train in "Chantry Approved" ways. But Oliva was the exception. A newly harrowed mage, she had been a clever young woman and consistently scraping with the Templars for a number of petty offences. He had taken her under his wing, and she had flourished under his guidance.

She was rather pretty to look at as well, but at the moment she looked rather on edge

"You look tired, my dear." he said simply.

Oliva nodded and sat herself down when Uldred gave a bored motion of his hand.

"I havnt been sleeping," she said, her deep brown eyes were awake and full of dangerous light. "it's hard to believe that after all this time…"

"I know," Uldred agreed, allowing himself a smile. "But we still have much to do, dear girl."

"That's why I have come," she replied, fixing him with a fierce gaze. It was not entirely unpleasant. "Do you know Layla Amell?"

"Amell?" Uldred repeated, turning the word over with his tongue. Then he gave a snort. He had only met her on a few brief occasions, he recalled a cool confidence, and the fact that she obviously hated

the circle was certainly of interest… But she didn't hate the circle, she just hated the fact that she was… contained.

"Irving's star pupil, if I recall."

"Perhaps not," Olvia replied, leaning forward. "Greagoir threw her in the dungeon a fortnight ago. She helped a blood Mage escape…"

Uldred lent forward on his desk. "Did she now…?"

Now _that_ was something to consider.

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><p>Cullen couldn't sleep. He had been tossing and thrashing in his sweat since the early hours, his entire body felt like it was being pressed against a thousand white hot needles and it took all his strength not to scream out loud.<p>

He shot up in his bed, gasping. It was a miracle his agony hadn't awoken every single man and woman in the tower, let alone any of the dozen fellow Templar knights he shared a room with. What was wrong with him? He wondered if he was having some sort of seizure…

Lyrium.

He realised what was happening to his body in one single painful wave of agony. Maker, he had heard the older Templars complaining miserably of "Lyrium Withdrawal" before. Was this what that was?

He rose to his feet gingerly, taking a few moments to slide on a vest and trousers over his small clothes before staggering out of his dormitory, hand over head.

His vision blurred slightly as he walked, causing the circular corridor to temporarily descend into abstract colours and noisy whispers; but he was slowly starting to recover faculties, noting that the unbearable pain that had been wracking across his body was fading away.

He took a deep, calming breath and took in his surroundings. It looked like he had staggered all the way to down to the first floor. It was a miracle no one had spotted him and stopped him in his Lyrium induced tracks. He stumbled into the deserted library and collapsed into one of the chairs, usually reserved for studying apprentices.

He still winced as his muscles gave the occasional twinge, but he seemed other the worst.

"Cullen, you fool," he mumbled to himself. Over the past two weeks, he had slowly increased his Lyrium dosages. He had told himself it was to make him a more efficient hunter in tracking Jowan but that had been a stupid, stupid lie.

It helped him forget… her.

"Enjoying a midnight stroll, Ser Cullen?" a voice asked behind him, causing him to practically jump out his skin. He whirled around to find himself face to face with Knight Commander Greagoir.

"K-knight Commander, I-" he stammered. But Greagoir snorted and sat himself down opposite the young Templar.

"At ease, boy." he chuckled. It took Cullen a moment to register that Greagoir wasn't wearing his armour either, and he looked surprisingly small and old.

"What are you doing awake at this hour?" the Knight commander wondered.

Cullen couldn't tell him. He couldn't bear the shame.

"I was thinking about what Uldred said about Ostegar," Cullen lied, looking down at his naked feet.

Greagoir gave a solemn nod. "I think that cursed place is on everyone's mind at the moment,"

He agreed, glinting at Cullen with grey eyes. Cullen didn't like it, it was like Greagoir was scanning his very soul.

"What is going to happen to Layla Amell?" Cullen asked, his eyes concentrating on the bookshelf just over Greagoir's shoulder.

"I confess, I have no wish to kill the girl, foolish as she has been" Greagoir conceded. "she has been applied to go through the Rite of Tranquillity."

"When?"

"Tomorrow evening,"

Cullen felt an icy spear go through his heart.

"B-but-" he began to stammer. What was he going to say? He really had no idea, but at that moment both Templars heard the sound of heavy footsteps.

A Templar rushed into the library and stopped dead when he spotted them.

"Knight-Commander!" he called, rushing over. Cullen didn't recognise his voice. Someone new possibly.

"What is it?" he replied.

"Senior Enchanter Wynne and the other survivors have returned from Ostegar and-"

Suddenly, Wynne burst into the Library with surprising speed. Her years certainly hadn't done much to slow her down just yet.

"Ah, Senior Enchanter Wynne!" Greagoir called, smiling at her. "Welcome back. Senior Uldred has already explained the situation, and we-"

"The situation?" Wynne butted in, her eyes glittering fiercely. "What Uldred has told you is complete nonsense!"

And as she told them what really happened at Ostegar, Cullen really wished he had stayed in bed.

* * *

><p>"<em>Catch me, Jowan! Catch me!" Layla giggled, jumping over one of the dormitory beds in an effort to escape the older boy's grabbing hands.<em>

"_I'm going to catch you Amell!" he shouts, chasing the fleeing girl. _

_She laughs and shrieks, a large smile over her young face as she ducks and weaves between the bunk beds, her apprentice robe flapping behind her like wings as Jowan rushes just behind her._

_He makes another grab for her, but she throws herself forward avoiding his touch. Jowan starts to slow, small beads of sweat present on his smooth forehead._

"_What's the matter Jowan?" she says playfully, shooting the breathless boy a saucy smile. "Am I too quick for you?"_

"_Can I play?" a new voice behind her asks. Layla whirls around to see another boy. He is small and thin, a ratty pointed face with mousey brown hair and bright green eyes._

"_Can I play with you?" he asks again._

"_You may not," Layla replies tartly. "You are not allowed to be here. Go or I shall tell the Templars!"_

_The scrawny boy doesn't move. But looks at her with renewed vigour._

"_Please!" he begins to beg. "I just want to play,"_

"_We could do with another player, Layla." Jowan gently rebukes her, coming to her side. _

"_It would be nice for someone else to be It for once." he adds, smiling at the other boy._

"_No!" Layla shrieks, pushing the new boy backwards. "He's not supposed to be here! I don't want him here!"_

"_Layla!" Jowan exclaims, astonished at her. _

_He turns to the boy. "You can play with us," he says kindly. And a small smile spreads over the boys lips._

"_What's your name?"_

_The little boy's smile widens a little, "My name is Mouse."_

"You can't play! she screamed.

"Layla! What's wrong?"

Layla shot up and opened her eyes. "Where?" she asked dumbly, thoroughly bewildered.

"You're in the circle, remember?" Anders said. His dancing brown eyes were eying her with concern. "You were having a nightmare! You just wouldn't wake up!"

Layla felt dry tear marks on her cheeks, and brushed them off with a single, rapid movement.

"Fine," she said curtly, her mind reeling.

Just a dream. She told herself.

It had been a stupid dream.

* * *

><p>Uldred paced his study, his mind reeling. Why had he been summoned back to the Mage council chamber? Why had the message been delivered by three heavily armed Templars instead of one of his fellow enchanters? Something was wrong, very very wrong.<p>

That's why he had sent for Olivia, and to her credit she had arrived as quickly as he had hoped.

"Enchanter?" she asked, her eyes following his pacing figure. "What has happened?"

"A little insurance policy," he drawled, still moving back and forth. "I have been summoned to another meeting, but something is clearly off. I am not a blind fool. Head downstairs and gather our fellow Libertarians. Have a small group position themselves within eye-shot of the chamber, and the rest wait downstairs."

"Enchanter…?"

Uldred stopped his pacing and silently cursed himself. Olivia may be a Blood Mage, but it didn't make her some sort of battle hardened killer. He was making the girl nervous, so He smiled at her weakly.

"I do not wish to cause you panic. This may simply be me assuming the worst. But I will not go into that chamber knowing that the possibility is there."

Oliva gave a small nod. "I understand, Senior Enchanter. I will gather everyone."

"Good girl," he muttered, and clasped her shoulder. "You remember the plan, yes?"

Oliva nodded, an apprehensive glimmer in her eye.

"Good. Then go, and remember your teachings."

Oliva scurried out to collect his allies. He knew it wouldn't be enough, of course. That's why he wasn't going to the meeting straight away. He had one last ally to call on. An ally who may just tip the balance in his favour.

He grabbed his staff from the wall, an exquisite Lyrium infused piece of art created by the Tranquil, and swept out of his office.

* * *

><p>The sound of a door creaking open caused Layla and Anders to temporally put aside their favourite game of "Where to stick the staff in Knight Commander Greagoir" and look up. Layla felt slightly embarrassed of herself that hearing the door to the prison creak open was one of the highlights of her day. Anders was looking up as well, his gorgeous brown eyes giving her a quick glance of "who the hell is it?". They heard footsteps, not heavy clunking Templar footsteps, but gentle and clipping. The sound of sensible shoes.<p>

The sensible shoes clipped into sight. It was a mage.

"Ohh! Look Anders!" Layla exclaimed tartly. "We've got a visitor!"

"Did he bring grapes?" Anders wondered, twirling a finger through his long, filthy hair. "I like grapes,"

"Did you bring grapes?" Layla enquired of the man sweetly.

The mage ignored their jibing and smiled at them.

"I'm here to make you an offer." Uldred drawled.

"How would you like to join me in a little revolution?"

* * *

><p><em>Special thanks to Cali, Dumat's claw, Myst, ItsADrizzit (three times!) and De1tin for the reviews!<em>

_You are all total stars!_

_If you have any ideas where you want this story to go, want to give the next chapter a beta-read or have any questions, don't hesitate to PM me!_


	5. Sword Of The Maker

_Thanks to ItsAdrizzit, Daarb123, Kaytaylol, Dumat's claw and Styx for the reviews!_

_Thanks to glamasaurus and Kaytaylol for adding the story to your alerts!_

_Thanks to nimue Surana, Styx and Flows76 for adding the story to your favorites!_

_It's a complete pleasure and honour to have such kind people reading my story :)_

* * *

><p><strong>I'm stuck in this bed you made<strong>

**Alone with a sinking feeling**

**I saw through the words **

**you said To the secrets you've been keeping **

**It's written upon your face **

**All the lies how they cut so deeply **

**You can't get enough you take And take and take and never say **

**No**

**(Linkin park - Blackout)**

* * *

><p>"How would you like to join me in a little revolution?" Uldred had asked. He had expected the two mages to bite his hand off for the key. He had expected them to want revenge on the Templars who had put them there. He HAD expected a bit of Blighted gratitude. He had not, in all his hurried predictions of this meeting, expected both Layla and that Anders man to burst out laughing.<p>

Laughing. Honest, tears-down-the-face-and-I-can-hardly-breath laughing.

_Andraste's flaming eyebrows._

Uldred was sure that if the two Mages weren't separated by two inches of solid grey iron, they would be holding onto each other for support.

Perhaps they had lost their minds down here…

Layla recovered first.

"Maker!" she said, wiping a tear from her eye. "That was the highlight of what has been a highly melancholy fortnight."

"Ohh…" Anders had finally managed to wrangle some control over his giggles, but still had a stupid grin on his face. "My ribs hurt!"

Uldred glared at them. "What," he began, every word a shard of ice, "What is so amusing?"

"Oh, I'm sorry," Layla replied, slowly gathering her shreds of dignity like scraps of paper left on the floor of the study.

"We're not really into the whole "Burn down the Chantry" thing."

"I'm really not the revolution type," Anders agreed, a hint of anxiety creeping into his humoured voice. "I'm more of a "Keep running away and think about the consequences later" kind of mage."

Layla however, was now looking up at Uldred with a glint of curiosity in her eyes.

"So…" she said, smiling stupidly. "It's Uldred isn't it? I recall you glaring at me like that before."

Uldred smiled at the pair of imprisoned mages indulgently, a wide smile like that of a Drake eyeing a particularly juicy Cow.

"Ah… of course," he began. "You are unaware of recent events. My dear friends, I hate to be the bearer of bad news but good King Cailan was killed at Ostegar."

The imprisoned mages reaction to this was slightly more predictable, and he stopped briefly to allow Anders and Layla to exchange a startled glance at each other before continuing.

"Wha-" Layla began.

"The battle was a complete disaster, it was only thanks to Teyrn Loghain Mac Tyr that Ferelden has any army left at all. All a bit of a mess to tell you the truth."

"Loghain?" Anders remarked. "Hero of the River Dane? The "We shall never be slaves to the prancing Orlaisians!" That Loghain?"

"Indeed," Uldred replied, peering at them through thick iron bars. "No doubt you have heard of the Darkspawn massing in the south? Now that Cailan is dead, it falls to Loghain to rebuild what is left of Ferelden's army and for that he needs Mages. He needs us. Lots of us. He needs the Circles allegiance."

Anders and Layla were following his words carefully now, it was clear to them that the senior Enchanter was not here to jest. (Not that Uldred ever Jested of course.)

"However, there is… resistance."

Anders gave a snort. "I imagine that may be the biggest understatement since "So… The Chantry is a bit mean to mages isn't it?"

"I recall Greagoir ranting about something about Mages being recruited before I helped Jowan. He wasn't very happy about it. He was like "Boohoo! Mages might be doing something useful!"

Uldred nodded at the girl. Olivia had been right, There was something about her… the way she held herself, the way her eyes darted over every detail and her words danced and fizzed like fireballs. It was quite possible she played the clown to put others off guard, and Uldred was not going to let this girl pull the wool over his eyes.

"It has gone beyond simple grumbling. The Templars will fight tooth and nail to keep us imprisoned here rather than defend our country. I have reason to believe that even the first Enchanter supports the Templars on this matter."

"Suck up Chantry loving coffin dodger…" Anders mumbled under his breath. He was also watching Uldred with interest now.

"And this brings me back to the reason why I'm here…"

"Revolution?" Layla finished for him, smiling not unkindly. "You need all the support you need, even if it means recruiting from us nutty apostates in the prison. Am I right? I'm right aren't I?"

Uldred bristled. "Correct. Support me in the meeting and I will break you out of your… charming homes."

Layla and Anders looked at each other, both apprehensive.

"What do you think?" Anders asked.

"I'm not sure," Layla admitted, eyeing Uldred suspiciously. "As I said, not really a revolutionist."

She seemed to consider for a moment, her face screwed up in thought.

"I'll make you a deal, Uldred." she said finally.

"Oh?"

"You let us both out of our cells, and we'll back you up in this little meeting of yours. And… if it all goes to pot, we'll lob some fireballs and lighting around-"

Anders gave a splutter, but Layla carried on unfazed.

"-We'll do our best to support you, but when we have the opportunity, you know, when the Templars are busy holy smiting you all back to the Divine age… Anders and myself will leg it."

Uldred stared at her. "Leg it?" he repeated incredulously.

"Leg it, yes. To flee. Run away. Retreat. You know… _leg it_," Layla explained sweetly. "We'll use the confusion to escape the Circle. I doubt the Templars will have the opportunity to stop us."

Anders had been listening to her quietly and wide eyed, but now he was grinning like a cat.

"I think I love you," he informed Amell and she beamed back with bright green eyes.

Uldred considered for a moment, his eyes darting from Layla to Anders and then back again. As long as they were present for the meeting, as long as this Layla was as powerful as the other Enchanters insisted…they could do what the hell they liked afterwards. Uldred really didn't have any interest in baby sitting these two maniacs.

"Very well," he said finally. "You have a deal." he clicked his fingers and a second Mage appeared by his side holding a bundle of fabric under her arm. She was astonishing pretty, slim and tall, with her dark brown hair drawn into her a somewhat severe bun. Her eyes were almost as cold as Uldred's.

"The senior enchanters are gathering," she informed Uldred, he nodded curtly.

"Well, come on then!" Layla said, rising to her feet. "Get us out of here! Revolution waits for no mage!"

Uldred smirked at her then turned to Oliva. "If you would my dear,"

Oliva placed the package of fabric on the floor, pulling out a small silver knife that had been concealed in the hem of her robe and raised her left wrist, which Layla noticed was covered in a dozen very fine white scars.

"Wait-" Anders suddenly burst out.

Oliva brought the knife slashing down, and red blood gushed forth from her slit wrist. The air crackled with electricity, and the blood seemed to have a life of its own, swirling and shifting from the wound like a snake preparing to strike; A crimson serpent that bared its fangs at the inmates.

Oliva directed the flow at the cell bars, and the force of the spell caused them to groan and creek in protest.

"I'd get back if I were you," Uldred drawled, amused at Anders and Layla's horror as the blood curled around and in between the bars like grasping fingers and started to solidify.

Oliva gave a final heavy tug and the bars were wrenched from the walls, stone and all, collapsing to the floor with a deafening clang and up heaving a cloud of dust.

Layla peeked out from under her arms, catching the sight of Oliva healing her wound with a bored expression on her face.

"Blood magic," she said, a glint in her eyes. "That was… effective."

"Bloody stupid more like," Anders was recovering as well, and the look on his face was not a pleasant one.

Uldred gave a snort. "Save us the lecture. Your cells were warded, draining the mana of all those nearby. Only blood magic is capable of bypassing such defences."

Olivia smirked at the pair of dusty mages as she chucked Layla then Anders a bundle of fabric she had brought.

"Your robes," she explained.

"Dress quickly," Uldred ordered. "I have little time for discussing ethics."

Layla held Olivia's cool gaze for a moment and then looked down at her new robes. They were identical to the Robes Irving had given to her for passing her Harrowing. There was also a heavy hood made of some sort of blue velvet with golden embroidery.

"For hiding your features," Olivia explained, still eyeing Amell with interest. "You are both wanted criminals of course,"

"Look who's talking," Anders retorted, but he was gleefully squeezing into his own robes, which were light blue and fitting on his own hood.

"I have _missed_ fashion," he said smiling at Layla as the pair stepped out of their ruined cells.

Layla suddenly grinned and gabbed him in a tight hug.

"Told you I would get us out of here," Layla's muffled voice said. Anders gave a chuckle, not really caring that Uldred and Olivia were glaring daggers at them.

"Never doubted you for a minute," Anders replied, smiling from under his hood.

Layla chuckled and reached up, pecking him on the cheek.

"You're a terrible liar."

"You wound me, madam."

* * *

><p>Now they were free, Anders and Layla were having a quiet argument.<p>

"_Lets just run now," _Anders hissed into her ear was they marched behind Uldred's and Olivia's sweeping forms. They both were hooded, disguising most of their features from the Templars overlooking their route to the Mage Council Chamber, but Layla still held her breath every time they past one of the armoured soldiers of the Chantry.

"_We just need to stick together," _She whispered back. _"Uldred may be expecting the worst anyway. You know how the senior enchanters like to be melodramatic."_

Anders looked to reply but was forced to wait as a two Templars marched past.

"_They're blood mages! The moment the Templars find out they'll annul the entire circle. Including us. I really don't want to be annulled, I've just had my hair done."_ he replied the moment they were out of ear shot.

"_Look, It doesn't matter, we need to get out of here. It's either this or stay in the cells for another thirty years."_

"_Andraste's knicker weasels…" _

They walked in silence for a few more minutes, climbing to the higher, warmer levels of the Kinloch hold. The circle certainly seemed to have a different air to what she remembered. There was an… electricity. A tension that was almost thick with palpability. Layla peeked out from under her heavy velvet hood at Uldred's back as they walked. Was he a blood Mage as well? It wasn't as if these people had custom robes or something (although there was an idea). and he reminded her of herself in many ways. It was a bit of a shame he was such a dickhead, because they would be getting on famously otherwise. Amell cast a sidelong glance at Anders as well and smiled a reassuring smile, earning a grin in return from under a hood. Layla began to notice other Mages, hidden in shadow giving Uldred brief nods and shallow winks as they advanced.

She recognized a few of them, Enchanter Daven, a tall muscular man with a permanent glare; Enchanter Saria, a shallow faced elf who was looking increasingly fidgety as they approached; Zelda and Melody, two Apostate sisters who Layla was pretty sure had come from Denerim a few years back; and a few others she didn't recognize but were grasping their staves tightly and with grim purpose.

"_How many have you spotted?" _Anders asked. He had obviously noticed them as well.

"_About three dozen so far," _Layla whispered back.

"There are more," Olivia informed them over her shoulder. She wasn't even bothering to keep her voice down.

"There are far more!"

"Contain yourself, girl." Uldred rebuked her, and she glared at them as Anders and Layla shared a concerned glance.

_How many were there?_

"Uldred!" A gruff voice called. The four mages turned to see three Templars advancing on them from the direction they were heading. Anders gave Layla a tug on the arm and they shrank into the background.

"Ser Grayshaw," Uldred drawled, pronouncing the name as if it tasted bad, and Layla felt Anders visibly stiffen.

The three Templars were all masked behind winged helmets and towering over the Senior Enchanter and his apprentice. The centre Templar took a step forward and removed his helmet, revealing a fierce meiotic glare

"You were expected by the Knight Commander ten minutes ago. We shall escort you to the chamber."

"I do not require escort!" Uldred snarled back.

Grayshaw grabbed Uldred by the shoulder, pulling him forward and bared his teeth.

"If I have had my say, Uldred. You would be dragged into that chamber by a rope around your neck!"

Olivia's fists visibly clenched.

"How dare-" Uldred quickly rose his hand and she stopped herself.

"Peace, Olivia. You shall have your time."

Uldred turned back to stare at the three Templars with an air of calm.

"You may escort me. But I am still perfectly within my rights to bring one of my own with me."

Grayshaw frowned, his cold grey eyes watching Uldred carefully.

"She," he pointed directly at Layla, and she smirked under her hood. "Will be my entourage. You will find that this is perfectly within my rights, Ser Grayshaw."

Grayshaw snarled. Layla honestly thought for a moment that the templar was going to punch him in the face and drag him in, but he nodded.

"Who the hell are you, Mage?"

"M-my name is Keili, Ser Templar Ser," Layla said, putting on a simpering nervous voice.

Grayshaw glared at her for a moment, and Layla thought he was going to rip her hood off. Along with her head.

"Very well!" he snapped. "now come!"

Uldred delayed for a few moments to whisper some hissed instructions in Olivia's ear, and she smirked and nodded.

Layla was about to move to Uldred when Anders grabbed her and kissed her hard.

"What was that?" she wondered, smiling despite herself when he finally tore away. "Last kiss before we go into battle?"

"Don't say last," Anders replied, "Don't ever say last."

"You are with me Anders," Olivia said, scowling with grim purpose.

"Lucky me,"

She gave him a hard pat on the arm and guided him away, leaving Layla and Uldred with the increasingly impatient Templars.

"You remember your part, yes?"

Layla gave a curt nod. Fire had always been her specialty.

"Come," Uldred said, leading the way. "It doesn't do well to keep our dear colleagues waiting."

* * *

><p>Anders watched the them leave with a frown on his face as he felt a shudder of concern wash over him. What in the name of all Thedas was he doing? He wasn't a revolutionist! He liked to think of himself as a swashbuckling rogue. Wait… Could a Mage be considered "Swashbuckling"? It didn't really matter. All he knew was that Amell was going to be in the middle of any chaos that broke out, and it was going to be that bald idiots fault, him and his bloody need to revolt. and that Ser Grayshaw caused his skin to crawl. The creepy bastard. Anders hated the circle, the thought of being… contained anywhere, by anything, gave him a sense of revulsion, and Layla had been something of a kindred spirit; another rogue just wanting to feel the sun on her face. Nothing more, nothing less. And now they were both helping Blood Mages take over the tower. Maker, this was just… mad. Kind of exciting as well, but also quite mad. The kiss had been rather fantastic as well. Anders cast a side long glance at Olivia as they ducked into one of the higher dormitories, which housed the Un-harrowed mages of the Circle. She was gorgeous as well, and any other time Anders would be all other her, complementing her on the size of her fireballs; but there was a cold glint about her that caused Anders to feel a twinge of revulsion. A side effect of Blood Magic perhaps?<p>

Oliva suddenly grabbed his hand in her own, a twinkle in her brown eyes. Anders was taken aback, even more so when she placed a small Silverite ring on his index finger.

"Are we married now? Sorry, but it'll take more than a pretty ring to tie this bachelor down" he joked, but Oliva frowned at him.

"This ring is enchanted." she explained, showing her own which glinted brightly. "All of our allies have one. It connects us to each other, and us to Uldred. Now we wait."

"You really think that this will free the Circle?" Anders asked. "Because all your going to get for your trouble is a shining sword of mercy through your heart."

"I believe it is necessary to try," Olivia replied. "And if it does descend to violence, the Templars will die. All of them."

"Great," Anders replied, sitting himself down on one of the beds, looking glum. "I love it when you people REALLY plan these things out."

* * *

><p>As Layla and Uldred entered the Mage Council Chamber, she felt the breath catch in her throat. Maker, this place was… large. Circular in shape, the floor space was completely bare of furniture and dozens of curved tables flanked the floor space like wooden sentinels. Each table was home to three of the Enchanters, who were peering at them. Some with grim anticipation, some looking pale and nervous and yet others who looked on with poorly disguised hatred.<p>

Uldred had certainly been making friends.

Layla spotted First Enchanter Irving sitting at the centre desk across the room, like a dusty judge waiting to pass sentence and his usually kind eyes burning with cold fire; No Knight Commander Greagoir though, so that was something. Next to Irving was an old mage, silver grey hair and a stern expression on her face who Layla recognised as Senior Enchanter Wynne. What was that old biddy doing here? Didn't she have apprentices to boss around? Templars surrounded the chamber, a dozen silver giants of winged steel standing with stoic and grim purpose; and Layla felt her heart give an unsure leap when she recognised Cullen standing on the right of the first enchanter, his eyes darting and alert. Layla found herself hoping he didn't get caught up in this mess.

Uldred moved to the centre of the chamber, a place where Layla guessed Mages addressed the other enchanters. She made to follow him, when a gauntleted hand grabbed her shoulder and wrenched her back. She found herself eye to eye with Ser Grayshaw who was smirking at her.

"You stay here, Mage," he hissed at her. "Your precious Uldred is about to feel justice."

Layla made a show of bubbling horror and whimpering until Grayshaw let her go In disgust, allowing her to take her position by the side of the huge wooden doors of the Chamber. They gave a protesting groan and swept closed with a clang.

And then the sound of bolts being locked from the outside.

Uldred stood tall in the centre of the room, the face of calm dignity.

"First Enchanter," He drawled. "I trust you have had time to consider the offer Loghain put to the Circle in our last meeting? And I do wonder why you believed it necessary to have me escorted here like a criminal? I confess, the experience was a surprising one."

Layla saw Cullen and Wynne glare at Uldred with black hatred, but Irving seemed to be matching Uldred's show of calm.

"Senior Enchanter Uldred," Irving started, glinting up at him. "As you have no doubt been informed, your fellow brothers and sisters have returned from Ostegar. The tale they spin has been somewhat… contradictory to your own."

Layla saw Uldred's feet paw the ground slightly, like a wolf preparing to either bolt or strike. Knowing Uldred, it was probably the latter.

"Oh?" the mage retorted. "And what, pray tell are these contradictions?"

Irving nodded to Wynne, whose lips were now pursed and thin.

"If you would, senior enchanter Wynne."

Wynne nodded at the first Enchanter and rose to her feet with meticulous care, looking down at Uldred with distaste.

"Of course, First Enchanter. The tale Of Ostegar is a tale of betrayal, cowardice and death. Not least, caused by the so called "hero" Loghain, and I am ashamed to say that Senior Enchanter Uldred played a part in the betrayal himself."

Layla's mouth slowly opened into a gape as Wynne recounted her experiences of Ostegar. How Loghain ignored the signal to charge and instead turned and fled, leaving the King and his army to die. Wynne went on to explain how Loghain had immediately planted himself in Denerim and announced himself Regent before Cailan's blood was cold, and how Uldred had twisted the truth to suit Loghain's and his own needs to take over the circle.

There was a general murmur of anger from the assembled Magi, and even the stoic Templars seemed to be growing restless.

Layla however, was still processing the story. She had read of the famous Loghain, he had been the focus of many of the story books she had stolen from the Library during her apprenticeship. The charming King Maric and his most loyal friend Loghain. Wynne had to be lying… She had to be.

"What say you in your defence, Uldred?" Irving inquired.

Uldred remained silent, his dark eyes glaring at Wynne with complete venom. The atmosphere in the chamber was shifting and contorting into something far more sinister. Ser Grayshaw and the others were completely hypnotised by the events playing out in front of them, and Layla took the opportunity to slowly begin shifting herself to the left, slowly coming Uldred's side on the perimeter.

"Speak, Uldred!" Irving insisted, his voice dangerous and low.

"Who are you to command me?" Uldred said quietly. His hands were shaking.

The chamber seemed to take a collective breath.

"Who are you to command any of us, _my old friend_? You, who hand over your own brothers and sisters to the Templars cold blades in the name of "justice!" You, who have performed the rite of tranquillity on those you should be protecting!"

Irving stood to his feet, his eyes burning with fire. It caused Layla to give a shudder, but she continued her slow circling of the chamber.

"Uldred!" he cried. "You will submit yourself to the will of the maker!

"Fuck Your maker!" Uldred hissed. "Fuck your Andraste for placing this burden on me! On us! I am sick of these pitiful games, Irving! I am tired of being treated as an object to be feared and watched and slain! I am tired of hearing of our brothers and sisters being slaughtered like cattle for simply wishing to feel the sun on their faces and the wind in their hair! I will no longer stand by when their murderers are seen as all conquering heroes who are doing the will of a non existent creator! I say that it is too much! I say this is too much! You cared once, Irving! You cared once for those who needed your help and protection! We are Magi, my dear first enchanter! We command the very forces of nature! Fire, Ice wind and water! We are gods!"

"You are insane, Uldred!" Wynne retorted. "Listen to what you are saying!"

Layla was still etching around the perimeter, and she could finally see Uldred's face.

He was smiling.

"The Magi shall be free, Irving." he hissed like a snake spitting poison.

The Templars had heard enough, and had drawn their swords.

"Brothers and sisters" Ser Grayshaw called. "This Maleficaruim defiles the name of the Chantry! Perform your duty!"

"Whatever the cost!"

"The cost is too great, Uldred."

Twelve silver blades advanced slowly on the senior enchanter, who failed to acknowledge them, all his intention on the First Enchanter.

"You remember Layla Amell of course? The girl you threw into the dungeon? Because she remembers you, First enchanter."

Layla was in position. She wrenched off her hood and glared at Irving with cold green eyes.

Irving gaped. "Oh, child. What have you done?"

"I'm sorry, first enchanter. I really am."

She pooled her Mana and launched a fireball up to the distant ceiling. The ball of magma exploded on the stone, and globs of scorching flame began to fall down on the congregated Magi.

The Templars rose their shilds in desperate attempts to fend of the raining flame, and the mages brought up shimmering Arcane shilds to deflect Amell's spell.

Then the double door of the chamber exploded open in a shower of wooden splinters and fused metal, as the mages Layla had saw earlier stormed into the room.

Then the real carnage began.

* * *

><p>"Screw revolution! I want to liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiive!"<p>

Anders hurtled down the stairs like a human blur, his robe flapping behind him. The moment Olivia had received the signal, the assembled mages had charged towards the council chamber with single purpose. Anders, however, had taken the opportunity to follow through with Layla's plan of "leg it".

The entire tower seemed to shake and groan as what sounded like the black city itself descended on the upper level of Kinloch hold. Templars and Mages alike were running around in the chaos, and the entire level was in horror.

Anders rushed past libraries, classrooms, dormitories and meeting rooms in his haste to escape.

_Layla is up there. _An annoying little voice in his head whispered, clear as a bell over the din.

"Shut up, Anders." he said to himself, launching a bolt of lighting at a templar who was blocking his path, causing him to shudder and fall to the floor in a clang of steel.

_You just can't leave her up there. She wanted us both to get out of here._

Anders had reached the main doors of the tower. The usual guardsmen were absent. This was way too easy!

_She needs your help. The Templars will kill her._

Anders rested his hand on the door and pushed it open a crack, and a waft of delicious fresh air wafted past him; so fresh he wanted to bite it off in chunks.

The upper floor gave another rumble, and screaming echoed down and around the tower.

_Layla first, escape second._

Anders gave the door a punch.

"Ow!" he winced and made a cooing noise at his bruised knuckle.

He looked up glumly at the corridor leading back into the tower.

"By the flaming knickers of Andraste," he mumbled. "I hate being the good guy."

_No you don't. his inner voice said. The smug bastard._

He ran back into the tower.

* * *

><p>It was chaos. It was madness. Spells were thrown around the room with destruction and survival the only things in mind as the Circle mages and the Libertarians clashed with fire and ice. Layla ducked the sweeping Blade of her Templar and struck his chest with a bolt of lightening, the blue electricity flowed and sparked over his armour and he fell to the ground.<p>

In the centre of the room, Uldred and Olivia were facing off against both Irving and Wynne, and they're combined spells were so powerful Layla felt her hair stand on end.

She kicked the stunned templar away and started to scrabble, ducking spells and swords, through the chaotic battle towards the ruined doors, escape the only thing on her mind. She spotted Uldred and Olivia, who were slowly being pushed back by the combined might of Wynne and Irving.

Amell felt someone make a grab at her, and she sent out a mind blast without hesitating, causing a muffled yell and the hand to quickly let go.

"You fool, Uldred!" she heard Wynne cry. "All you've done here is doom us all!"

Layla spotted Cullen desperately slashing at two blood mages, who were advancing on him and cackling. Layla shot out another bolt of flame that engulfed the two mages, giving Cullen the chance to run them through.

He looked around, confused but didn't spot Layla, who was now busy dancing around the sweeping strikes of another Templar blocking her path. She was thrown backwards as the templar cast out a holy smite, and Layla felt her mana drain as she collapsed to the floor with a scream of pain.

The Templar charged at her. And then his head was ripped off by a stray stone fist, causing blood to spurt like a fountain out of what remained of his neck.

"Stand firm, Mages of the circle!" someone yelled over the din. "Push them back to the abyss!"

The smite was still affecting her. She felt ill and weak, completely unable to stand.

"You little Blood whore!" She heard someone scream at her.

She rolled onto her stomach to see Ser Grayshaw advancing on her, his great sword glinting with blood. He looked down at her and snarled.

"Maker show you mercy, maleficaruim! For you'll see none here!"

Layla shrieked and rolled to her left, avoiding the blade that ploughed into the stone floor where she had been moments before. The feedback dizzied Grayshaw for a moment, but he recovered quickly and pursued her with a war cry.

Layla srabbled to her feet and threaded her way through the battling crowd. She felt her Mana returning… She just needed… to avoid him for a few more… moments.

An explosion and a cry of rage to her left, and she dimly registered Uldred collapse to the floor, blood pouring from his head, and a Templar sword buried in his ribcage. The cry of rage was from Olivia, and she sent out a mind blast causing Irving and Wynne to be thrown back, landing on their backs.

Layla looked down at Uldred's corpse, disbelieving. Then Grayshaw's holy smite caught her in the chest, and she folded over winded, sick and completely immobile.

She looked up at the Templar, tears of pain flowing down her cheeks as her mana was once again sucked from her body.

Grayshaw prepared to bring down his great sword on her head, and was suddenly sent reeling by a fist of stone.

She looked up, blurry eyes at her rescuer, who was now sending spell after spell at Grayshaw.

**"Don't!"** he screamed, every word another spell. **"You! Touch! My! Friend!"**

Anders.

Grayshaw snarled and threw off his magical onslaught with a plume of blue fire, forcing Anders back.

"You!" Grayshaw roared.

"Me!" Anders replied gleefully. He seemed to be enjoying himself at any rate.

They both charged and clashed with magic and steel.

Grayshaw had began striking against the apostate with righteous strikes of blue fire, and Anders conjured an arcane shield to defend himself, but Grayshaw's onslaught continued, a walking fortress of righteous rage.

And for the first time, a glint of fear was visible on Ander's cheerful face.

"Anders!" Layla screamed.

Anders looked at her. "I-"

Then Grayshaw's sweeping blade smashed through his magical arcane shield and connected with his stomach.

Blood and ripped fabric flashed from the wound as Grayshaw wrenched his blade out with a cry of triumph.

And Anders fell back.

His usually glittering brown eyes were dark and utterly lifeless as his body fell to the floor.

* * *

><p><em>Yes. I just killed Anders. bad times all round. My reasoning for this battle is thus:<em>

_1. Uldred is more confident because he has layla Amell on his side. His, Ace in the hole. and thanks to her, he never resorts to summoning demons. he still gets a stray sword in the face, but... well. can't have everything can you?_

_2. there is some contridiction in DA:O and DA:A about Anders whereabouts during the fall of the circle. He was either on the run, or was stuck in the circle dungeons. Either way, he was safe. His death here is going to have a massive effect on the story later on. (feel free to guess.)_

_3. Ahhh Layla. Yes, lets face it. She can be a total, unthinking selfish idoit at times. To say she's selfish does not make her evil of course, i believe that she learnt some harsh lessons saving Jowan. her insitance on simply "running away" from the trouble is her way of getting loose. She does care for the mages I think, but always puts herself first._

_Thats all the notes I can think of for now. _

_Now, any reviews would be fantastic._

_Pleeeeeaaaase?_

_I promise i won't kill anyone else if i get a couple more reviews :)_

_But seriously, thank you all for the support. _

_Next chapter will be called:_

_"Amell And The Cousland"_


	6. Fallout

_Thanks to Rose Tinted Contact Lenses for the Beta! You're a wonder. _

_Thanks to ItsADrizzit, Styx, Sparky Mira, Reality Deviant, Rose Tinted Contact Lenses (again) and KayTaylol for the reviews! You make this a joy to write._

_Thanks to Amarie Mahariel for the favorite!_

_And last but not least, thanks to everyone who has read my story so far!_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Seems that I have been held, In some dreaming state**_

_**A tourist in the waking world, Never quite awake/**_

_**No kiss, no gentle word that could wake me from this slumber**_

_**Until I realized it was you who held me under.**_

_**(Florence and the Machine - Blinding)**_

* * *

><p>"<em>Wake up, sleepyhead!"<em>

Layla Amell gave a indiscernible groan and pushed her face slightly harder into her soft feather pillow in a vain effort to block out his voice.

She heard the sound of her curtains being wrenched open; giving a weak cry of protest as the sunlight lightened the dusky bedroom, she kept her eyes clamped shut but grabbed her spare pillow and chucked it with full force at where she guessed the one who dared bother her sleep was.

A feathery thump and a _"Hey!" _reached her ears.

Layla gave a laugh of protest as he jumped on the bed and began hitting her with the pillow.

"I'm up! I'm up!" she said in surrender, rolling over and finally giving the man the exceptional victory of managing to get her green eyes to open.

Sunlight was flowing into the room like water, warming the cottage's wooden walls and giving everything a golden glow; the man was now grinning at her, pillow in one hand. Handsome, with gorgeous brown eyes full of laughter as he gave her another pummel with the pillow.

_"Anders!"_ she cried in protest, as feathers started to fly loose, scattering themselves into the air.

_"En garde!"_ he cried in an Orlesian accent. Layla laughed again and fended off his soft attack with one arm, grabbing the second pillow with the other, then whacked him over the head, dizzying him for a moment.

He laughed and fell backwards as she leapt onto him, pinning him to the bed. Their laughter faded into mutual smiles, and he kissed her tenderly on the lips. A kiss that quickly evolved into gasping and moaning with the two tearing at each other.

Suddenly, he went rigid. _"Stop!"_ he hissed.

She stared at him - she had been halfway to undoing his tunic with her teeth. "What is it? Is it the children?"

Anders concentrated for a moment. "I think I can hear Miss Bobbles."

She gave a shriek of mock anger and began ravaging him again with one of the pillows.

_"You! And! That! Cat!"_ she yelled in between hits.

"Mercy!" he cried, laughing. "I beg for mercy, my lady! Think of the children!"

Layla laughed and rolled off him, getting to her feet.

_"Aww!"_ Anders moaned. "What happened to our morning sex? I _love_ our morning sex!"

"I wouldn't want to hurt Miss Bobbles's feelings - you know how she gets jealous," Layla replied playfully, putting on her soft velvet dressing grown. It was a deep emerald green and matched her glittering eyes.

Anders gave a mock pout and rolled off the bed as well. He grabbed her round the waist and kissed her again, and she softened quickly.

"You're... _incorrigible_," she said in between breathless, deep kisses.

"You love it," he replied, pulling her back down to the bed.

Then the peace was disturbed again.

"_Mu-u-m!_" a girl screamed, throwing open the bedroom's wooden door. Layla and Anders quickly parted, laughing despite themselves.

The little girl was in hysterics, her bright green eyes wide and dancing. Her golden blonde hair thrashed from side to side to side as she darted onto the bed and grabbed Layla around the leg.

"What's wrong, Emma?" Layla asked, stroking her blonde hair. "Don't tell me it was Scamper - "

Anders gave a mock snort.

" - Or was it Jack again?"

Anders gave a cluck of indignation. "Oh I see. Just because she comes in crying, you assume it was one of the _men_ of the family who - "

"Jack took your staff from the kitchen, daddy!" she said breathlessly. "I told him not to, but he threatened to turn me into a toad!"

Anders's face was a picture. "_Ah,_" he said.

Layla glared at him. "I_ told_ you about leaving that staff about! What happened last time, Anders?"

Anders quickly scrambled to his feet to go and find their son.

"_What happened last time, Anders?_" she called after him.

"Oh, it was _nothing!_" he protested. "That fire could have been started by _anyone."_

Layla gave Emma a squeeze and let her go, smiling despite herself.

"What are we going to do today, mummy?" Emma wondered, looking up at her with those big green eyes.

"We're going to learn some new spells!" she told the nine-year-old.

"Fireballs!" the girl cried excitedly. Layla stifled a chuckle and put her hands up.

"No no, not yet! I was thinking more along the lines of summoning a wisp. You could keep it as a pet!"

Emma's potential sulk instantly evaporated, and her eyes filled with wonder. Layla grabbed her hand and started towards the cottage kitchen. "Let's go see what the men are up to, shall we? No doubt causing havoc."

"Jack, put down the staff! No, no - _don't!_"

Layla gave a bored wave of her hand and rose an arcane shield to block the stray arcane bolt that launched through the kitchen window, sharing a brief look of bemusement with Emma, who was happily munching on her breakfast.

"_Boys,_" Layla muttered as she glanced out the window at Anders, who was now resorting to outright bribery to get his staff back.

"You won't have to tidy your room for the whole of…today!" he tried desperately.

"_Way to take a stand, big guy!_" Layla yelled through the window.

The four-year-old boy screwed up his face, still clasping the massive metal staff with two podgy hands. "I wanna be a mage too!"

She heard Anders give a chuckle. "Oh, you'll be the bestest, powerfullest mage ever!"

Layla grinned as the boy's eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. _"Really?"_

"_Absolutely,_" Anders replied, grabbing his staff back from the awestruck child. "Now eat your breakfast. And no feeding it to Miss Bobbles! She needs to watch her weight."

The cottage sat happily on the edge of Lake Calenhad, with golden wheat on all sides that waved slowly in the light breeze. In the distance you could see both Redcliffe Castle and Kinloch Hold, sparkling in the reflection of the clear blue lake, two proud stone towers on opposite horizons competing for admiration.

Scamper and Miss Bobbles were darting to and fro in the wheat field, Scamper snapping happily at the tabby cat's tail as it remained resolutely outside his lumbering reach.

_"Leave Miss Bobbles alone, Scamper!_" Anders cried the moment the family had made their way to the field. "_She'll take your eye out!_"

The Jet black Mabari resolutely ignored him, pursing the ginger blur as it darted into the golden field.

Layla and Emma spent most of the day practicing spells, as Jack looked on with wide eyed wonder. Anders spent most of his time trying to stop Layla's Mabari from eating his cat. The sun rose in the sky and began to settle behind the distant Frostback Mountains distressingly quickly, but Emma eventually succeeded in summoning a wisp and watched the green orb of light proudly as it floated serenely around her head.

"It's pretty!" she said happily.

"I want one!" Jack moaned. "Emma gets all the fun!"

_"Scamper! SIT!_" Anders ordered.

Layla laughed again, gathering Jack up in her arms.

The sun was setting oddly quickly, and the sky was already a deep purple as the giant orb of light descended behind the mountain, and a distant song started to whisper from somewhere.

"Night's coming," Anders said, smiling sadly. "Time to go home."

"You'll come with us, won't you, mummy?" Emma asked, as the wisp did a loop-the-loop over her head.

Layla grinned at her daughter. "Of course, love. I'm not going anywhere, am I?"

Anders's smile widened as he took Emma's hand. "Come on! I'll race you all!"

_"Last one there is a Templar!"_

Jack gleefully wriggled out of Layla's arms and started to rocket towards their distant cottage after his father and big sister.

Layla started after them, but suddenly frowned. _Where was that music coming from?_

It was a woman's voice, echoing and afraid, but really quite beautiful as well. Layla turned around, noticing that the song seemed to be coming from the distant Kinloch Hold.

_"…I shall not be left to wander the drifting roads of the Fade…"_

"Ignore it," Anders said, making her jump out of her skin. His face was contorted with disgust.

"Anders!" Layla gasped. "You frightened me!"

Anders gave a small smirk.

"You hear that?" Layla asked him. "It sounds like the Chant. We're not near any chapels, are we?"

Anders looked over at the distant tower, his brown eyes cold. "Love, let's go inside, alright? The children are waiting…"

Layla turned and looked back at the tower. It was night time now, and Kinloch hold stood proudly against a luminous moon, which reflected itself into Lake Calenhad.

"I think I should help," she told Anders, frowning slightly. "She sounds afraid."

"You don't need to help, she's fine. Stay with us. Please."

_"…For there is no darkness, nor death either…"_

Emma had appeared at Anders's right leg. She was looking up at Layla with frightened eyes.

"Mummy, I don't like the dark. Let's go inside."

The singing was becoming louder. Richer and sadder, echoing around the wheat field.

"I think…" Layla began. "This isn't right."

"Mummy, where are you going?" Jack had appeared behind Anders's other leg, sucking his thumb.

Layla's mind was whirling. It was getting so dark now - when had that happened?

"Please don't go!" Anders begged, his dark brown eyes mournful in a puppy dog expression.

Layla took a meaningful step towards the tower, and the entire world seemed to shake and contort. The wheat field burned away, leaving nothing but ash and charred corpses; the once sparkling Lake Calenhad had turned into lava, which burped menacingly and the sky itself began to constantly shift and wax.

"The Fade?" she mumbled to herself.

_"…The Maker's Light / And nothing that He has wrought shall be lost…"_

_"DON'T LEAVE ME!"_ Anders screamed.

Layla stumbled forwards. She was in the Fade. This wasn't real. This wasn't real. The singing was becoming louder and clearer as she squeezed her eyes tight.

She felt someone grab her roughly around the arms, squeezing her so hard the nails dug into her flesh. She screamed and opened her eyes. Anders was beginning to shake her. Hard. His face filling her vision. _"You dare try to FUCKING leave me here! I came BACK for you! And you LET me DIE!"_

"I - I'm sorry, Anders. I really am." Layla replied, shaking at the site of her husband's growing rage.

He seemed to be calming down now, and Layla took the opportunity to wrench free from his grasp and strike him with a lightning bolt to the chest.

_"But __**you**__ are not that man!" she screamed at the winded illusion. "__**You**__ are not Anders! __**They**__ are not my __**children**__! Let me out of here, Mouse! Let me out this __**instant!**__"_

"Anders" looked up at her and started to laugh. It was not the laugh she remembered, the one so full of life and humour. This was cold and malicious, and sent a chill down her spine.

Her children had disappeared, only to be replaced with two desire demons, both horned and nearly naked. They smiled at Layla with cruel lips.

"_Clever_ little girl!" Anders said in a singsong voice.

"The clever mage with the sharp tongue!" The Desire demon that had been her daughter said, her voice dark and velvety. "Not so clever now, are you little one?"

Anders laughed again, and Layla chucked another lightning bolt at him and snarled at her, attempting to grab her again, when the entire world suddenly disintegrated under her feet, plunging her into blackness.

* * *

><p><em>"Anders!"<em>

Layla sat up with a scream on her lips and dry tears on her cheeks. She looked around wildly, trying to get a sense of where she was, and found herself in a small stone cell, blocked by grey iron bars. She was back in the dungeon! How had this happened? She screwed up her eyes in concentration, wiping away the nightmares that still flickered behind her eyes.

She remembered Anders, his dead brown eyes and the pool of blood as he lay on the floor of the council chamber; she remembered Ser Grayshaw's bellow of triumph as he turned to her with the sword still dripping with his blood. She'd had nowhere to go, no way to fight back - she was still weakened by his Holy Smite. Amell had simply sat there, looking into Anders's eyes with disbelief, not even paying attention to the raging battle that was going on around her.

Then the Demons had come.

Olivia, perhaps fuelled by rage at Uldred's death or simple desperation, had summoned a half dozen demons into the council chamber; demons of rage that shot crackling bolts of flame at templar and mage alike, desire demons that giggled as they pursued the ones who tried to flee...

And Olivia had stood struggling in the middle of the demon throng, in what appeared to be a fit. Her entire body wrecked with spasms as another will entered her body.

Then she was simply… gone. In her place stood a creature that looked like Olivia, certainly, but her eyes glowed bright red; she ordered the demons in their massacre.

Ser Grayshaw had fled with the other Templar cowards to the lower levels. Oliva had simply sat there in a daze until someone wrenched her to her feet and struggled to move her down the stairs.

"_Take me back!_" she had screamed at her saviour, trying to wriggle away. "_Take me back!_"

"Do not be a fool!" the woman had snapped.

After a few moments of rabid scrabbling, Layla had broken free Then something had hit her over the head, and she had fallen into blackness.

Her mind rambled back to the present. How long had she been down here? _Maker_, she felt like death; her head was aching and she felt sick, - mostly fallout from the Templars' attacks, but also a far deeper dread that caused was causing her mind to spin in sickening lurches. Layla took a few moments to inspect her robes and noticed with irritation that the garment was torn pretty badly at the shoulder, revealing bruised flesh.

"Y-you're _awake!_" a woman said, sounding quite terrified.

Layla peered up through the bars to see a brown haired mage with a wide-eyed expression goggling at her.

"_Keili?_" Layla wondered, taking in the quaking mage. "What-"

_"Silence, b-blood mage!"_ Keili shrieked in a high pitched tone. "What did you call me?" Layla hissed, rising to her feet and glaring at her. _"What did you just call me, Keili?"_

She started backing away from the cell, mumbling what sounded like the Chant as if it would protect her from Layla's cool gaze.

_"These truths the Maker has revealed to me / As there is but one world, one life, one death / There is but one god, and he is our Maker…."_

Layla instantly bolted forward and practically forced her head through the bars to peer closer at Keili, who jumped back at the captive's spurt of manic speed.

"Oh, so it was you, was it?" Layla muttered, frowning at her. "I heard your singing while I was in… when I was unconscious…"

Keili gave a whimper. "The chant g-gives me strength!"

Layla smirked coolly at her, two hands treading around the bars of her cell.

"Does it? That must be nice. Now, How about you tell me why I'm in this cell? I am not in a very patient mood, Keili. How about you let me out? I have a date to keep."

"W-Wynne asked me to guard you," Keili replied; she now had her back against the wall of the corridor, as great a distance from Amell as she could possibly get while remaining in her vision.

"I see," Layla pouted, withdrawing her head from in between the bars. Senior Enchanter Wynne. That _really_ didn't bode well.

"It's because of the whole 'blood mage revolution', isn't It? People get angry over the smallest things."

Now it was Kelli's turn to look angry, her face clouded with dark storms. "This is all _your_ fault! The Templars have locked us all in the Tower with those demons! This is what magic does to people! It's evil and corrupted, just as _you_ are!"

"I am _not_ corrupted!" Layla retorted. Then she frowned and smiled, enjoying the look of terror on Kelli's face before continuing lightly. "I'm not evil either. I suppose I should have said that first. _Definitely_ not evil. Or corrupted." She fixed Keili with another icy scowl. "How about you let me out? Doesn't that sound like a good idea? What with the demon invasion and everything…"

Keili shook her head. "You are staying… right there. Until Wynne s-says so!" She practically ran from the dungeon, leaving Layla alone with her clouding thoughts. So the Templars had locked everyone in the tower and left all the Mages to their collective fate had they?

Layla gave one of the iron bars a frustrated kick, trying to ease out some tension. Anders had been right: they should have run when they had the chance. She felt herself weakening slightly at the knees thinking about him.

"Oh, _Anders…_" She mumbled out loud, sliding down the cell wall. "This is all my fault. I'm sorry."

Layla did not believe there was much on "the other side". She was not one to believe in miracles or some sort of omnipotent all knowing creator, but for a moment she wished that Anders could hear her. If she could just… _apologise. To explain how…_

She shook her head.

Every time she closed her eyes, every time she blinked, all she could see were his cold brown eyes judging her silently.

She tried to distract herself by relying on her other senses.

Now she was alone, she could pick up distant rumblings in the tower as if a storm was taking place on the higher levels. Layla shuddered to think of what those demons had unleashed. Would Mouse be with them? Had he finally found a way out of the Fade as well?

She sniffed slightly, feeling pretty wretched. She hoped her friends were all right - Finn especially, he really didn't deserve the end of a templar's sword.

None of them did.

The air seemed to crack with electricity, probably a side effect of the battle. It made Layla's teeth tickle unpleasantly, and the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. She heard the sound of a heavy door creaking open, and hurried footsteps.

Layla shuffled on her bum slightly, and frantically wiped away a few stray tears on her cheeks.

The footsteps clipped into view. An elderly woman, dressed in a crimson Senior Enchanter's robe, walked over to her cell. Her grey hair was drawn into a severe bun, and she looked absolutely exhausted; heavy shadows were present under her blue eyes, and cavernous wrinkles were present around her face.

The two female mages looked at each other for a moment.

"Hello Layla," Wynne said, unsmiling.

"Senior Enchanter Wynne," Layla replied neutrally.

Wynne sniffed and took a moment to sit herself down on the stool Keili had been using, appraising Layla thoughtfully. "I never thought you were the type to take place in a revolution. When I taught you, you were headstrong and reckless, but you were also clever and kind."

Layla snorted. "Don't pretend like you know me, Wynne."

"Obviously I don't," Wynne agreed coolly, still appraising her with cold blue eyes. Layla wished she would stop - she couldn't stand it.

"I was in a dungeon. I was waiting to be tranquil, and Uldred made me a better offer, alright?"

Wynne frowned. "Why were you in the dungeon?"

"Why should I tell _you_ anything?" Layla replied, glaring daggers at the older woman. "It's not like you'll believe me. After all, I'm a big bad _blood mage!_"

"_Are_ you a blood mage?" Wynne asked simply.

"No."

Wynne nodded. "I think I shall trust you in this. I saw you in the battle, and I believe that you would have used those powers if you were truly a Maleficaruim."

Layla rose an eyebrow, hope started to flicker in her heart.

"You believe me? That makes a change. You can let me out now."

Wynne shook her head sadly. "No, I will not. I _cannot_. I have enough concerns without a reckless rogue mage running about. You and I are far safer with you here."

"Let me _out_," Layla ordered, green eyes glittering. "Just let me out and I'll go find Olivia, sort this whole mess out. Just give me a _chance_."

Wynne rose to her feet, grabbing her staff from the wall.

"No," she said quietly. "You have made your choice, Mage Amell. However, if we somehow manage to survive this, I will ask the Templars to show mercy to you."

"They'll kill me, Wynne! You damn well KNOW that they'll kill me!" Layla yelled after her retreating back. Wynne slowed slightly, as if she was going to respond, but then swept out of sight, leaving Layla alone in the dark.

* * *

><p>"I've brought you some food," a kind voice told her. Layla looked up from her sitting place. She could not remember the last time she had eaten, but she did not reply.<p>

"Don't be like that," the woman pressed. "You must eat."

Layla's stomach betrayed her and gave a loud rumble, the woman laughed despite herself.

"You see? Now please, eat."

Layla looked up at the plate of food that had been slipped into her cell. It was nothing exciting - a few slices of bread and a few pieces of fruit, including a rather rosy apple - but she begrudgingly took it and took a large bite out of it.

"Tfnks," she muttered through a full mouth. She looked up at the woman - she looked a bit older than Layla, her red hair drawn back into a ponytail. She was rather pretty as well, and smiled kindly at the captive mage, her staff leaning on the wall.

"I'm Petra,"

Layla didn't reply straight away, she was busy cramming a slice of bread into her mouth. After a few moments of gleeful munching she swallowed. "Layla."

Petra smiled at her again and waited patiently as Layla finished her small meal.

"What's going on up there?"

"Well… We don't have much idea. We keep hearing bangs and cracks from the upper levels but no one will dare go up there. We can't find Irving but we've managed to find a couple of the survivors - apprentices and children mostly - but it's…_something."_

Layla nodded, pushing the empty plate back to Petra with a smile of thanks. "Going to let me out yet? I could help you. All of you. Failing that, I could stand there and look impressive. You know, the whole "vengeful mage" shtick. It would do wonders for morale."

Petra shook her head sadly as she grabbed the plate. "I'm sorry," she said.

Layla sighed, about to reply when she heard a distant echoing rip sound, as if a curtain had been torn underwater. "What was - " she began.

Suddenly, outside the cell a rage demon burned into view, blazing with fiery hate.

Petra stared at the spirit, dumbfounded and routed to the spot.

"Let me out," Layla said simply, keeping her eyes on the advancing bubbling creature.

"Let me out Petra."

Petra wasn't listening - her entire body had frozen to the spot and her friendly eyes were full of terror.

_"I WILL TEAR YOU APART, MORTAL!"_ the Rage Demon hissed, and it threw out a plume of flame in Petra's direction. The orange heat haze forced both the mages back and seemed to have broken Petra's stupor.

She darted out the way of the flame and cast her own ice spell; it froze the Demon momentarily.

_"Petra! LET ME OUT!_" Layla screamed at the mage, but she was watching in horror as the ice thawed and the demon chucked another bolt of fire. This one hit its mark, and Petra was thrown back, landing on the floor in a fiery heap.

Layla was helpless as the demon shifted towards the injured mage, only to be forced back by another plume of Ice. "What-"

Wynne blazed into view, her staff spinning in her hand as she launched spell after spell at the surprised demon.

"_MORTAL!_" it hissed, and chucked several fireballs at this new threat, only for the attack to bounce harmlessly off Wynne's newly-cast arcane shield. She did not counter however, but quickly turned and with her staff, sprayed Petra with a hose of clear water quenching the flame.

"_Demon!"_ Layla yelled in warning, as the spirit advanced on her again.

Wynne and the creature launched their attacks at the same time, The demon launched another plume of fire that caught Wynne squarely in the chest. Wynne's spell was a bolt of thunder which struck the demon, and with a roar of pain it collapsed into ash.

Petra looked up dazed, and saw that Wynne was looking distressingly dead.

"_Wynne!_" She cried, crawling over to her and looking distraught.

_"Petra, listen to me. You need to let me out. I can help her!_" Layla shouted from her cell.

"I-I don't…"

"_NOW, Petra!_"

Petra scrambled to her feet , she was soaked to the skin from Wynne's water spell and, fumbling in her robes, she brought out a heavy bronze key and clicked it into the lock, wrenching the cell door open.

Layla swept out and knelt down by Wynne's crippled form.

It was clear that the demon's spell had caught her directly in the heart.

"Nasty."

Layla looked up at Petra, who was sobbing quietly.

"I think she's-"

With a gasp, Wynne sat up with a flash of blue in her eyes. Layla screamed, thinking that she had become undead, when Wynne scowled weakly at her, the blue light fading away.

"That was... _interesting,_" she gasped, clutching her chest. Petra scrambled to her side, arm around the senior enchanter's shoulders.

"_Wynne! _I thought… You saved my life!"

Wynne merely nodded. She was incredibly weak, but recovering already, some colour retuning to her cheeks.

Layla stared at her, dumbfounded. "You should be dead."

"And _you_ should be in your cell."

Petra helped Wynne to her feet. "I let her out, Enchanter. I thought she could help."

Wynne glared at Layla suspiciously, earning a glare in return.

"Not that I actually give a damn." Layla added hurriedly, but Wynne gave her a… not unfriendly glare.

"I see."

Petra was grinning from ear to ear as Wynne rose slowly to her feet, scanning Layla suspiciously. "We should inform the others that the demons have managed to infiltrate the basement. It is no longer safe down here," she announced, turning her back on Amell.

"Come."

Petra threaded an arm around Wynne's shoulder and begun to help her up the steps, Layla skulking behind.

* * *

><p>A small group of survivors had formed on the bottom floor of Kinloch Hold; the area was usually reserved for tradesmen and deliveries of much need supplies. A small gang of children, the eldest no older than twelve, sat in the far corner, goggling at the three mages as they came out of the basement. Their eyes widened when they saw Wynne, who was looking injured, and widened to dinner plate circles when they saw Layla emerge behind them looking like she was rather enjoying herself.<p>

Layla gave them a curt nod, earning a few small acknowledging nods in return. Wynne sat herself down on one of the stone benches and two of the older Mages rushed over. One Layla recognised as Kelli - she was looking even nearer hysterics than she had been earlier; the other was a middle aged man with medium brown hair and a rather spectacular hooked nose. They were both looking at the Senior Enchanter with concern.

"_Wynne!"_ the man exclaimed, kneeling down beside her. "What _happened?_ Was it - " He suddenly looked up and spotted Layla, who was now leaning, arms folded, on the central stone column.

"Before you say anything, it wasn't me, all right?"

" We were attacked by a rage Demon, Kinnon." Petra informed the man. "Wynne saved my life but…"

Wynne shook her head irritably. "I am fine. I am thankful for your concern, my dear, but I simply need a few moments. I am merely - "

"-A little _burnt out_," Layla finished for her, smiling coolly.

Kinnon glared at her. "You are not helping, girl."

"I'm not trying to." Layla said, then shrugged and continued her inspection of the little survival camp.

She noticed a shimmering magical barrier was glowing with blue energy over the door leading to the library and the higher levels, no doubt to fend off demon attacks. It was flickering weakly, Layla guessed it was Wynne who had cast it. She turned back to Wynne and Kinnon. "Umm… is this barrier supposed to be flickering like that? It's not really…"

The barrier faded away, and another rage demon skunked into view, spitting flame.

The children screamed and scattered in all directions, and the other mages quickly gathered to protect the stricken senior enchanter.

Layla took a cool step forward, smiling at the demon.

"Hello!" she said brightly. "Enjoying your day out?"

"_MORTAL!_" the rage demon bellowed, and launched a plume of flame at her. Layla laughed and easily sidestepped it, then with a flourish launched her own cone of cold - it struck and froze the rage demon in a second. Layla shattered the Ice statue with a stone fist.

Layla couldn't help but do a little victory dance granting the applauding children a sweeping bow afterwards.

"Thank you!" she said. "Thank you very much!"

"This is all one big joke to you, isn't it?"

Layla's smile faded a little when she saw Wynne standing behind her, scowling.

"Oh I'm sorry," Layla apologised. "But did you miss the little bit where I saved your life?"

Wynne's scowl deepened, but Layla was beyond caring.

"Obviously, you did. Anyhow, I'm going to get out of what remains of your hair, Senior Enchanter."

Layla took several meaningful steps towards the barrier-less door.

"W - where are you going?" Keili called, sounding terrified.

"To find my friend Anders and give his body the respect it deserves. To Kill Ser Grayshaw if he's still alive, and then I'm going to kill that stupid bitch Olivia. Any questions? No? Good."

Layla took another step forward when she found herself rooted to the spot. It was an odd sensation, like when your in a nightmare and you can't move a muscle. She looked down at the floor, and noticed a glyph of paralysis gluing her to the floor

"You are not going _anywhere."_

She turned to Wynne to argue, when the Senior Enchanter's staff connected with her face, cancelling the paralysis and knocking her to the floor.

Layla took a moment to inspect her lip with a finger and found blood. She smiled up at Wynne.

"Wrong move."

Amell's mind blast sent Wynne reeling, and the glyph faded from view.

Petra and Kinnon rushed over. What they were going to do, Layla really had no idea.

Then they all heard footsteps - heavy, clanking ones, suggesting armour and weapons.

The mages all froze. Layla and Wynne shared a look.

"The Templars can't have the manpower to annul the circle already!" Wynne said.

Layla scrambled to her feet and turned to the far door that led to the Tower entrance. The footsteps were getting louder and louder.

"Get the children back," Wynne ordered, and Petra rushed over to the confused apprenctices making cooing noises.

"Get behind me, all of you!" Layla added, taking a step forward. Wynne ignored her however, and came to her side, staff in hand.

"I will not allow the Templars to harm innocents while I'm still breathing." the older woman said.

Layla bit back a remark and focussed on the far door.

The two mages began to sparkle and shimmer with magical energy, ready to tear apart the first templar that marched through the arch.

* * *

><p><em>Thanks for reading!<em>

_The dream sequence is inspired by a smilar sequence in Fable II between Rose and Sparrow._

_Please review guys! It's the reason i write!_


	7. Amell and Cousland

_Sorry for the long wait! This chapter was a real challenge, but I think the result works well. Thanks to Rose Tinted Contact lenses and ItsADrizzit for their feedback and support. I am grateful to have such wonderful people reading and helping me with this tale._

_Thanks to Nayru, Styx, SparkyMira and Kaytaylol for the reviews! You make this all worthwhile! Thanks to everyone who added the tale to their alerts!_

_Thanks to CaliforniaTD for the favorite author and author alert. it's a true honour. _

_Lot's of talk this chapter._

* * *

><p><strong>I saw a saviour<strong>

**a saviour come my way**

**I thought I'd see it**

**at the cold light of day**

**but now I realise that I'm**

**Only for me**

(Portishead - Machine gun)

The moment Kayden Cousland stepped into the entrance hall of the Circle tower, he knew something was very, _very_ wrong. Then again, it didn't exactly take one of those detective sorts to figure _that_ out.

It might have been the fact that several Templars were lying on the floor, screaming for pain relief, and those that were standing had their swords drawn and were visibly combat ready.

His Mabari, a jet black dog of war called Huan, sniffed the air and then gave a low growl. Cousland recognized the smell as well.

It stank of death, that damned sharp metallic tang that the Warden was becoming all too familiar with; from Highever all the way to Ostagar, that pungent smell of spilled blood had been following him around like a storm cloud wherever he went, and Kayden couldn't seem to do a damn thing about It.

He raised an eyebrow to his fellow Grey Warden, a man called Alistair, earning an apprehensive smile in return.

"Not promising, is it?" Alistair asked lightly.

"That it is _not_," Kayden agreed darkly, shaking his black-haired head.

His fellow companions were taking in the somewhat morale-draining scene as well.

"So _this_ is the dreaded Circle tower?" Morrigan drawled, her golden yellow eyes full of disdain. "'Tis even worse than I imagined!"

"It certainly looks a little... worse for wear," Leliana agreed, her pleasant Orlesian accent full of concern and her fiery red hair swishing from side to side as she peered around like an over-curious five-year-old.

Sten, a grey-skinned qunari who towered over the others, nodded curtly to himself as though this confirmed all his theories. "The stench of corruption," he said. "This is the work of _bas-saarebas_."

Kayden turned his attention to one of the taller templars, who seemed to be giving orders to the rest. He was middle-aged, silver-haired and thick set; he was also growling at one of his subordinates, possibly the Knight-Captain. "…And I want two men stationed within sight of the doors at _all times._ Do not open the doors without my express consent. _Is that clear?_"

The other templar gave a nod. "Yes, Ser." He marched somewhat reluctantly to the barricaded door, which was being looked over by several other templars, all with swords drawn and in defensive postures, knees bent and shields glittering with the sword of mercy blazing proudly on the front.

"I_ think_ that's the Knight-Commander," Alistair noted, who was, as usual, at Kayden's side.

Kayden nodded and stepped forward in his uncomfortable ragtag armour as the head templar turned to consider them with suspicious grey eyes.

"Who are you?" he demanded. "I gave Carroll _express orders_ not to let _anyone_ across the lake! We are dealing with a very delicate situation. You _must_ leave. For you own safety."

"I'm afraid I can't do that," the Warden informed the templar in a businesslike, matter-of-fact tone. "I am Kayden Cousland, a Grey Warden. These are my fellow companions - Alistair, also a Warden, Leliana, lay sister of the Chantry, Sten of the qunari and Morrigan, of the… _um_..."

"Of nowhere that concerns you, templar." she finished for him.

A loud bark sounded from close by. "And that's Huan," Kayden acknowledged, frowning at the indignant panting hound.

"I have come to request the Wardens' mage allies in the war against the Blight."

The Templar gave a sigh. "I am weary of the Grey Wardens' ceaseless need of men to fight the darkspawn, but it _is_ their right. You'll find no allies here. The templars can spare no men, and the mages are… _indisposed_."

Morrigan gave a snort.

"I shall speak plainly: the tower is no longer under our control. Blood mages and demons stalk the halls. The circle is lost. The tower had fallen."

"_Blood mages?_" Alistair echoed, shocked.

As if on cue, a menacing rumble emanated from above their heads, causing Kayden's stomach to clench uncomfortably and a sandstorm of dust that had settled onto the walls over centuries of inactivity to shake free, raining down and coating Warden and templar alike with grey dirt.

Leliana groaned and started to feverishly shake the dust out of her hair, causing a cloud of dark grey to fly off her form. The others were also brushing themselves, except Sten, who seemed completely indifferent and Morrigan, who had somehow evaded every single spec of dust. She was eyeing the others with cool amusement.

Kayden turned his attention back to the Knight-Commander, and every single grain of dirt was now coating his worn out features.

"How did this happen, Knight-Commander?" he asked, trying not to sound too indignant.

"We… don't know," Greagoir admitted, sulking slightly in his failure to explain the inexplicable. "A council of the Magi was taking place on the upper floors, Irving said…" He shook his head, and a fine layer of dust came free, coating his armoured shoulders. "I was informed of a disturbance, but when I arrived I was met with only Demons, hunting Templars and Mages alike. I realized we could not defeat them and told my men to flee."

One of the other Templars marched over. Like Greagoir, he was helmetless. He was tall and dark. He smiled coolly at the party, bowing as he did so. "Ser Grayshaw at your service, Warden. Forgive me Knight-Commander, but I could not help overhearing your discussion."

Greagoir glared at the man for a moment, considering, then curtly nodded, explaining: "Ser Grayshaw was watching over the Council at the time of the attack."

Kayden returned Grayshaw's nod. "It is true, then? There are blood mages within the Circle?"

"It is so," Grayshaw growled. "They had three ringleaders - Senior Enchanter Uldred, who I am glad to report is now dead, and two others, Olivia Thrull and Layla Amell."

Cousland noticed that Alistair was looking the most concerned out of everyone, his brown eyes looking over the injured templars with uncanny clarity. It was hardly surprising, Kayden thought. If things had been different, Alistair might have been a Templar in the middle of this mess. Perhaps he would already be dead.

Or worse.

"I have sent word to Denerim, calling for reinforcements and the Rite of Annulment."

Kayden frowned as Alistair visibly stiffened at Greagoir's words. "The Rite of Annulment?"

It was Leliana who answered. "It is one of the powers granted to the Grand Clerics - it allows the Templars to… _purge_ the circle with the Maker's blessing."

Kayden's eyes darkened. "So, this is to become the site of a _massacre?_"

"The situation is _dire!_" Greagoir responded, using his gauntleted hands to underlie his points. "There is _no alternative _- everything in the tower must be destroyed so it can be made safe again."

"No mage is defenceless. There must be some who yet draw breath."

This time it was Grayshaw who snorted. "Defenceless? Indeed not, Warden, especially when every one of them has given in to the temptation of _blood magic!_"

Kayden bit back a angry response - this Ser Grayshaw was rapidly getting under his skin. Who was _he_ to talk to him like a child?

"Not all the mages are maleficarum, Ser Grayshaw," Greagoir growled at the man. "You would do well to remember that many mages have already died alongside the templars in defence of the Circle. If any are still alive, the Maker himself has shielded them. No one can survive in there. It is too painful to hope for survivors and find… nothing."

"Do you really _believe_ that?" Kayden asked, glaring at the man. "You have a responsibility to these mages, Knight-Commander. You cannot simply shut them all in without giving them a chance, no matter _how_ small!"

"And what was I to do? Leave the door open as the abominations pour out?"

Alistair cleared his throat. "He's… he's right. All the Circles have doors like these - " He gestured to the huge pair of iron doors that were firmly sealed shut and barred. "It's to prevent abominations from… getting loose."

"Fear does not mean we should stand by and do _nothing,_ Alistair!" Kayden snapped angrily, and Alistair's mouth clamped shut. Kayden Cousland had enough death on his conscience, he couldn't just stand by and let this happen.

_Not again_.

"If I help you deal with the Circle, will you led me the aid I seek?"

Greagoir raised a grey eyebrow at him. "If, by some miracle, you destroy the abominations, then yes - the templars will join your army."

"And If I save the mages?" Kayden asked, grim with determination. He saw Grayshaw's nostrils flare and couldn't care less, but he didn't notice Morrigan roll her golden eyes.

"I will only believe the magi saved if the First Enchanter himself stands before me and tells me it is so. If Irving has fallen… then the Circle is lost, and must be destroyed, as the order dictates."

"Remember, Warden," Grayshaw added, "Layla and Olivia were the vanguard of this unholy destruction. The Maker wills that they are destroyed."

"That is not _your_ order to give, Ser Grayshaw!" Greagoir reprimanded the steely man, and he flinched away from his superior's anger. "Bringing either Layla or Olivia to us will allow us to interrogate them, perhaps find other blood mage plots, but if they _do_ resist - "

" - I know what must be done, Knight-Commander." A thin smile spread over Grayshaw's lips as Greagoir continued.

"A word of caution… once you cross that threshold, there is no turning back. The great doors must remained barred. I will open them for no one until I have proof that it is safe."

Kayden nodded. "We have an agreement then."

Knight Commander Greagoir and Ser Grayshaw bowed their backs. "May Andraste lend you her courage."

* * *

><p>Good on his word, Greagoir had the iron doors sealed shut behind them the moment they set foot in the tower.<p>

The group were instantly greeted by death. Corpses were strewn all down the curved corridor, mage and templar alike; some were lying down in such a way they could have been mistaken for sleeping. Others were twisted into unrecognisable positions, their limbs broken and torn from theyir sockets like toys discarded by a destructive child.

Huan sniffed one of the mages with a curious eye as the group advanced.

"_Stay on your guard_," Kayden growled, fully aware of how ridiculous he must have sounded. Of _course_ they would be on their toes - they were in an abomination-infested hell hole.

He cast a glance sideways, and saw Alistair had already pulled out his blade. It was a simple blade he had bought in Lothering, but it was sharp and light, deadly in the right hands. Kayden nodded to himself and pulled out his own blade, called Oathkeeper, and felt instantly more secure with the blessed longsword in his hand.

It was quiet as they advanced, but not in a pleasant way. There was an… _absence of sound_, as if any noise or signs of life had long been drained away from the environment by some malignant spirit.

Kayden gingerly stepped over another corpse, taking pristine care not to touch the poor soul's body.

Morrigan obviously noticed his carefulness, and she scoffed. "Have no fear, Warden. These mages cared little about their dignity in life, I doubt they shall care over much about your presence in death."

Kayden was about to respond when he froze on the spot, causing Leliana to almost knock into him.

"Do you hear that?" he hissed, his ears straining.

"I heard a voice…suddenly silenced." Leliana whispered back, her eyes darting and alert.

"Survivors?" Alistair wondered. "It wouldn't hurt to find a friendly face in here."

"More likely a foe that will attempt to enthral us." Sten replied, his dark eyes cold.

Kayden held up a hand to quiet his companions and remained motionless for a moment. "It's coming from the next room. Behind that door over there…"

He motioned to the door in question ahead of them: it was a simple wooden door set at the end of the curved corridor. "Alistair? You and I shall move in first. Leliana and Morrigan? Take the centre. Sten and Huan will cover the rear."

* * *

><p>The templars' footsteps were getting louder. They must have been right outside, with only a single wooden door blocking their "holy" crusade from the mages.<p>

Layla had Kelli's staff in hand, a simple wooden creation, since the poor girl herself didn't have much need for it in her present condition. She seemed to have developed a sudden infatuation with sitting in the corner and crying out for the "sword of the Maker to penetrate her corrupt heart." The others were being somewhat more supportive; Petra was behind her, ready to cast glyphs to slow the attackers to a crawl, and Kinnon was by her side in support. She could feel static building up around her as her mana began to crackle under and over her robes and exposed skin. Wynne was at her side, her gaze fixed on the door.

Which suddenly burst open, revealing several figures led by two shielded warriors.

Layla's reaction was instant. A plume of flame poured out of her hands towards the group - Layla was vaguely aware of Wynne's yells of protest as the two men were forced to hide behind their shields with the flame licking around them.

"_No! Layla, stop!_"

Amell ignored the cry of protest, and was preparing to fry the templars alive with lightning when a sparkling arcane shield suddenly enveloped the intruders, the shimmering purple wall fending off most of the fire's bite.

"Wha - " she began, when a staff cracked her over her head and she fell to the floor, feeling like her brains were seeping out across the stone floor.

She had just begun to recover when a glyph of paralysis froze her in position.

She looked up at the senior enchanter, who was glaring daggers of ice at her.

"_What the hell are you doing?_" Layla spat at her, venom dripping from her words.

Wynne was about to reply, when the closest Templar dropped his sword ad shield, waving at them.

Layla frowned at the man. He was dark-haired and muscular, his fine features full of good will. _Pretty boy,_ Layla thought with distaste. Then she took in his features and had the same thought again, only... slightly warmer. His fellow Warden followed the others lead and also placed his arms to the floor, and he grinned at them.

_"It's all right!"_ the first man called. _"We mean no harm!"_

Layla glinted at the others, craning her neck as far as the Wynne's glyph would allow. She spotted two women with the group: one was red-haired in light armour, bow in hand, and another, who was so exotic Layla had difficulty describing her. Behind the two women was a towering grey giant, who looked the calmest of them all. Layla noticed with irrational disquiet that the exotic woman was eyeing her with golden-eyed curiosity.

There was a palpable pause as both sides weighed the other up. Layla was peering suspiciously at them, but it was Wynne who was first to speak.

"Forgive her, Grey Warden. I did not wish this to begin with bloodshed,"

Layla felt her stomach plummet to the floor. She had just attacked a bunch of Grey Wardens, a legendary group of warriors who killed corrupted gods for a living. _Maker help her_.

"I thought you were templars," Layla smiled apologetically.

"It is lucky Morrigan knows some skills of her own, no?" the redhead replied. Her accent was unfamiliar, but not unpleasant.

So the exotic woman was a mage. That made sense - mages could become Grey Wardens. The one called Morrigan was still watching her with those odd eyes, and Layla felt rather self conscious that she was stuck on the floor.

She turned her attention back to the two men. The handsome man was staring at Wynne intently, while the other, more boyish looking man was looking concerned.

The handsome man took a tentative step forward, but Wynne rose her staff, her intent clear. "Come no closer. Warden or no, I will strike you down where you stand!"

"Perhaps we should all _calm down…_" the second man said quietly.

"You are right, Alistair." The first man agreed, and he smiled at the mages, earning looks of suspicion in return.

"I am Kayden Cousland. This is Alistair, Morrigan, Sten and Leliana."

"I thought I recognised you," Wynne said, nodding. "You were the Warden recruit at Ostagar."

Kayden looked at her, as if he had only just noticed her for the first time. "It's… Wynne, isn't it? I am glad you survived. What are you doing here?"

"I am a mage of the Circle. Of _course _I am here," she snapped, adding, "More importantly, why are _you_ here? The templars would not let just anyone by."

"Unless they intended to harm us," Layla added, darkly.

Kayden eyed her again. She didn't like the look he was giving - it reminded her of the Senior Enchanters' glares when they thought she had been responsible for a wrongdoing. "You are Layla? Would your family name be Amell?"

Layla smiled. "I suppose the templars have warned you that I am a big evil maleficarum who feasts on virgins' blood and led the mages in a bloody revolution?"

"Are you?" Alistair asked lightly.

"Very much not," she replied, then she frowned. "Except the bloody revolution part. That's pretty much true. Not that I led it, I more sort of… _helped out_. You know, a fireball here… a… um. This isn't casting me in a good light, is it?"

Morrigan gave a little chuckle. "So this is one of the fearsome maleficarum? My, my. She chills me to the very bone!"

Wynne gave a groan, but Layla grinned at the strange wild woman. "You… _believe_ me? You won't turn me over to the templars?"

Kayden frowned. "I will not allow any innocents to come to harm, Miss Amell. If you are innocent, you have nothing to fear from the templars."

Layla gave a dark chuckle. "You think _innocence_ will have anything to do with it?" She gestured to Wynne. "Besides, the dear Senior Enchanter asked a question, I believe?"

Kayden nodded, smiling slightly. He had a nice smile. "I came here seeking the aid of the mages against the Blight."

Wynne gave a dark chuckle, and a slight hint of wrath flickered behind her frosty eyes. "And you were no doubt informed that the Circle was in no shape to help you, I suppose?"

"And that doesn't explain why the templars let you through," Layla added. "I suppose they are planning one of their famous Rites of Annulment?"

Kayden nodded, and Layla felt a sudden knot give an unexpected tug in her stomach. The reaction surprised her. It was the first jolt of true emotion she had felt since Anders had been murdered.

"They sent for it, then. I feared they might have. What else could they do?"

Layla turned on Wynne in an instant. "_What else could they do?_" she repeated, her voice shaking. "_What else could they do?_ Oh, let me _see_… they could have _not_ locked us all in the tower with a bunch of demons and abominations!"

Wynne glared back at her. "Greagoir most likely believes us dead."

Layla gave a harsh snort, and once again she could feel that awful bubbling rage building within her.

"Despite everything, we have survived," Wynne continued, in her god-awful goody-goody voice. "If, however, they invoke the Rite we will not be able to stand against them….."

"You can let down this glyph anytime, Wynne," Layla interrupted, glaring at her.

"No," she replied simply.

Kayden was frowning. "How did all this happen?"

Wynne gave a sour chuckle. "Let it suffice to say that we had something of a revolt on our hands, led by a mage named Uldred. When he returned from the battle at Ostagar, he tried to take over the Circle - as you can see, it didn't go exactly as planned."

"The first enchanter pushed Uldred into a corner!" Layla snapped at the older woman. "He just wanted the Circle to be free - "

"The mages will never be free!" Wynne snapped back. "The Chantry will never allow it, you foolish child!"

She turned her attention back to the Wardens.

"Uldred died in the revolt, but his apprentice, a woman named Olivia, led the blood mages into the higher levels. I do not know what has become of her, but I am certain she is responsible for releasing the demons against us. I will not lose the circle to one woman's foolish stupidity."

Kayden nodded solemnly. "Then we must take the fight to this Olivia."

Morrigan rose an eyebrow. "If she is anything like Layla we must brace ourselves for the most terrible encounter."

Layla bristled, but Kayden nodded. "The Templars could attack at any moment and we have talked away enough time."

Wynne nodded towards the sparkling blue barrier blocking the party's progress. "I erected a barrier over the door to the rest of the tower, so nothing from inside could attack us. I will dispel the barrier if you join me with me to save this circle."

"Or…" Layla added over loudly. "You could kill her and that would wipe out both the barrier and my glyph. And I'll help you save the circle."

Wynne glared at her and Layla shrugged. "It was just a thought, Wynne. Can't blame a girl for trying!"

"we are not truly going to kill this kind woman?" Leliana wondered, frowning.

"I hope that will not be necessary." Kayden smirked. We have our path. Wynne, Greagoir will only accept that the Circle is safe if First Enchanter Irving himself stands before him and says it is so."

Wynne nodded to the other Mages. "Petra, Kinnon… look after the others. I will be back soon."

Petra's eyes widened with concern, and she placed a hand on the senior enchanter's shoulder. "Wynne… are you sure you will be alright? You were badly hurt in the cells, I-"

"The others will need your skills, my dear. I will be alright. Stay with them… keep them safe and calm."

"What about me?" Layla suddenly said, frowning.

Wynne scowled at her. "We have enough concerns without you."

Layla's face scrunched into fury, and she looked to reply. When someone spoke first.

"She should come."

Layla looked around surprised. Kayden was smiling at her. Layla stifled a laugh when she looked back at Wynne, who's mouth was open comically wide.

"Warden, this mage is an-"

"I do not believe she is a Blood Mage, Wynne. And nor do you, I think. We require all the assistance we can get, and this young mage seems be talented."

"Seriously?" Alistair said, frowning. "Your seriously bringing the mage who tried to kill us not three minutes ago?"

"Ahh… the templar finally rears his ugly sanctimonious head, does he?" Morrigan scoffed.

Alistair's eyes tinged pink in irritation. "How can you of all people - and I use that word loosely- defend her? She tried to kill us!"

"Which is quite understandable since she saw you stomping cluelessly towards her!"

"I was not stomping!"

Kayden's patience had long since run out. "Silence, both of you! I have made my choice."

The grey giant frowned. "This is a foolish action. She will betray us. It is in her nature."

"Sten-" Kayden began, but the Qunari cut him off.

"It is not to be done. She is a dangerous, wild thing. No Arvaarad to tame her. She cannot be trusted."

"Stenost," Layla said quietly, and the grey giant instantly looked at her as if he was gazing into her soul. "Maaras shokara. Anaam esaam Qun."

Sten paused for a moment, then nodded curtly. "So let it be,"

Everyone looked confused, most of all Kayden as Sten retreated back to his position at the back of the group.

"Can someone please explain to me what just happened?" Alistair wondered.

Kayden however, was smiling at Layla. She smiled weakly back.

"Impressive," he said. "I have never seen Sten change his mind about anything."

"He hasn't," Layla replied, a small laugh escaping her lips. "I'm a mage, Warden. I read a lot of books."

"If you would nullify the glyph, Wynne."

Wynne sighed, and Layla suddenly felt life spring back to her limbs. She jumped to her feet and nodded at the senior enchanter.

"Thank you, Wynne. I will not betray your trust."

Wynne nodded. "We shall see."

Layla turned to Kayden and did a little bow. "Layla Amell, Mage and conjuror of cheap tricks at your service."

Kayden smiled and bowed in return. "Kayden Cousland at yours and your families."

Layla laughed sourly. "Whoever they are. Come. We have talked away enough time. The demons await!"

* * *

><p><em>Thanks for reading! Any reviews will be fantastic and I find any feedback invaluable, so come on guys! Do a girl a favour ;)<em>

_This chapter is a bit chatty, I know. Originally this was going to run up the end of the broken circle storyline but its just too darn long. SO expect an update in the next few days!_


	8. The Broken Circle

_A massive thanks to Rose Tinted Contact Lenses (If you like layla Amell, go check out her wonderfully mad Morgana Amell in "Armour" its fantastic.) who not only Beta'd this story but is rapidly becoming one of my favorite people in the history of anything ever. You are a wonder :)_

_Thankyou to Styx, ItzADrizzit (check out his wonderful "When all that's left of you" if you miss Anders!) and Donroth for the reviews! your support means the world._

_And finally, thankyou to everyone who has added my story to Favs/ story alerts. I would namecheck you but my cursed hotmail account keeps freezing. Tis most upsetting! but thankyou!_

* * *

><p>The final Abomination gave a wet gurgle as it collapsed to the floor, its corrupted flesh wrecked with scorch marks and marks where teeth had plunged into it.<p>

"Who's a clever little boy?"

A happy bark.

"Yes you are! You are! Yes! You!"

Another happy bark and a wag of the tail.

"Who killed the big bad abomination?"

"Layla…."

" - You did! Yes you did!"

_"Layla!"_

Layla looked up from Huan's cheerfully panting form and eyed Kayden with glittering green eyes.

"Mabaris are so wonderful…" she mumbled, a sudden twinge of sadness flickering behind her eyes as she scratched Huan behind the ear. He closed his eyes in quiet pleasure.

"'Tis fortunate we have the time to preen over a slobbering mutt, is it not?" Morrigan remarked, giving one of the dead abominations that had attacked them a disdainful nudge with her foot.

Kayden had left Sten and Leliana behind to gather survivors and defend against a possible rear guard action from the templars.

Layla had led the way into the tower with steady purpose, and had instantly been attacked by a half a dozen abominations, snarling and crackling with destructive, soul-eating magic. They were hideous creatures, a mocking portrait of mages who used to be, before demons took over their bodies, carving out their souls and devouring his hearts.

The battle didn't last long, the demons falling one after the other, Layla and Morrigan providing potent battle magic while the two swiftly slicing blades of Kayden and Alistair and the powerful jaws of Huan did their own work.

The fetid smell emanating from their corpses made Kayden gag, but he ignored the instinct to retch and instead drew closer to the dead abomination Layla was inspecting. "I have heard many tales of Abominations during my childhood," he murmured, wiping the clammy black blood from Oathkeeper. "The stuff of nightmares."

Layla was running her hands over its chapped, bumpy skin, a strange look haunting her face.

"Are you well, my lady?"

Layla's green eyes seemed glazed, but his words dragged her back into the present. "I'm fine, Warden," she replied, rising to her feet. "I was just… thinking."

Kayden nodded, and passed her a lyrium potion which she gratefully grabbed, rewarding him with a rather radiant smile, then she turned to Morrigan.

"_I_ don't think Huan is a slobbering mutt!"

Morrigan chuckled. "'Twas referring to Alistair."

"_Funny_," the other Warden sighed from his sitting place.

"Stay still," Wynne soothed.

_"Owwww….."_

Wynne was taking a few moments to heal a nasty gash that Alistair had sustained from the battle.

"Is it serious, Alistair?" Kayden wondered, patting his comrade on the armoured shoulder.

"Not as bad as one would expect from getting punched in the head by a mad…. killer demon," he said, wincing as Wynne worked her magic.

"Panic not, Alistair. I expect your thick skull deflected the worst," Morrigan drawled.

"Go die in a _really_ hot fire, would you? That'd be great … thanks."

The blue light shimmering over his forehead dissipated, revealing fully healed flesh and the senior enchanter nodded. "You should be fine, young man."

"If anyone asks," Alistair said pointedly as he rose to his feet and grabbed his blade, "there were twelve of them."

Layla however, was frowing at him suspiciously. "I saw you cast some sort of blue fire at the Abominations. How did you do that?"

"_Ah…_" Alistair smiled sheepishly. "I was hoping… well. I was... trained as a templar. Before I became a Warden, I mean."

"A _templar?_" Layla hissed. Kayden was shocked at how her face contorted into a serpentine snarl, and her hands sparkled with magical energy.

"_Layla!_" Kayden called in warning, and Layla's magic dissapted.

"Alistair is no templar. He never took his oath to the Chantry. He is a Warden, and poses no danger to you. Understand?"

"Just... keep him out of my way."

"_Noted_," Alistair replied as brightly as he could, but the concern in his honey eyes was plain to see.

Layla had turned her attention to sifting through a dead templar's pockets, watched by an eager mabari. She pulled out a couple of health poultices, which she handed to Kayden. "We should move on,"

* * *

><p>"You feel that?" Alistair muttered quietly. "It's getting colder…"<p>

Layla nodded to herself. It _was._ The unnaturally icy wind bit through her robe, causing her to shiver slightly; and there was a sour smell in the air.

The huge room they found themselves in was absolutely deserted, only a few charred bodies giving away that anything was wrong at all.

"The Tranquil storeroom is on this level," Layla informed the others, shivering slightly. "Full of interesting shiny… stuff. We should take a moment to see what we can steal - "

Wynne's glare was withering.

" - I mean, with intention to _return_," Layla added, smiling brightly - and nervously - at the Senior Enchanter's indignation.

"It would not hurt to gather a few meagre supplies," Morrigan drawled. "Lyrium potions would be most useful, I think."

Layla grinned at the witch, earning a faintly curious smile in return. Then her shallow smile faltered as Layla grabbed her hand and began pulling her along.

"Let's do some shopping…"

"Unhand me, you ridiculous - "

"I like your necklace, Morrigan. It's gorgeous! We have lots of precious stones in the stockroom, mostly for spells…" Layla replied, seemingly oblivious to Morrigan's struggles to shake free.

"Is that so?" she replied, lessening her resistance slightly.

"I think Morrigan has made a friend," Alistair whispered overloudly to Kayden, as Morrigan shot Layla a look somewhere in between humour and contempt - the way she seemed to regard the world in general, in fact.

Kayden bit back a smile and nodded instead. "Very well. Let's see what the stores have to offer." He shot a reassuring look at Wynne. "Taking only what we _need_, of course."

The storeroom was not in the best of states; many of the once flickering torches had burnt out, plunging the corners into impenetrable shadow.

Layla was sifting through piles of wooden boxes like a child during Satinalia, eager and greedy, whilst Morrigan inspected the many towering shelves with a discerning yellow eye.

Kayden cast a look around the storeroom and his eyes narrowed at the shadows clinging to the far wall. "Whoever is in the shadows, I recommend you come out now."

Layla and Morrigan looked up from their scavenging, frowning at the shadow that Kayden was addressing, whilst Alistair drew his sword.

A surprisingly blank faced man stepped out of the darkness, his grey eyes devoid of any telltale emotion. "It is unfortunate you insisted in going into the stockroom. It is not in a fit state to be seen."

"Owain?" Layla said, rising to her feet.

The Tranquil gave a curt nod. "Yes. I am Owain. You remember, Layla. I was not aware that you had been released from the dungeon."

"She is with us," Wynne said, her voice slightly forced.

_"For now,_" Layla added, scowling at her.

Kayden frowned at the man. He was just… _wrong_. Everything about him was blank. There was no emotion on his face. Not fear, or surprise; not even a slither of curiosity. Then there was…

"That is an interesting tattoo, Owain," he said, frowning at the bright orange sun mark on his forehead.

"It is a brand. The symbol of the Chantry. It declares me as one of the Tranquil."

"Mother told me of the Tranquil," Morrigan said, withdrawing from her shelf and now eyeing Owain with fascination in her yellow eyes. "It is unfortunate, this rite they have performed on you. Most prefer death."

"Excuse me…" Layla muttered, and she turned on her heel.

"Layla?" Alistair called, concern on his face.

"A moment, templar!" she snapped over her shoulder, and disappeared round the corner.

"'Tis probably the Tranquil," Morrigan guessed. "This creature is most… unsettling."

"Owain," Wynne said, in her infuriating grandmotherly voice, "have you seen any other mages?"

The Tranquil nodded. "I saw a small party make their way to the higher floors. I did not wish to disturb them."

Alistair and Kayden shared a look.

"Was Olivia Thrull with them?" Kayden asked.

"I am unsure," The Tranquil admitted in his neutral tone. "I did not follow. The stockroom here is familiar, I prefer to stay here."

"And you weren't found by a large, snarling abomination that wanted to eat you?" Alistair asked.

"I suppose I should count myself lucky. I would prefer not to die. I would prefer it if the tower returned to the way it was. Perhaps Niall will succeed, and save us all."

"Niall?" Wynne repeated, frowning.

"Who?"

"He is one of the Junior Enchanters. A good man. What is Niall trying to do, Owain?"

"I do not know, but he came here with several others, and took the Litany of Adralla."

"Ah, then another has already beaten us to it."

"We should find Niall," Kayden replied, nodding to his fellow warden. "The Litany will give us a fighting chance against any blood mages we encounter."

"I wish you luck." Owain said, his grey eyes blank. "Perhaps this will be over soon and things will return to the way they were."

* * *

><p>Layla was grateful to get away from the others for a moment, it allowed her to regain her composure. The templar had been watching her out of the corner of his eye since they began their journey. Probably trying to decide when was the best time to Holy Smite her, probably. Her startled reaction to Owain had taken her by surprise as well. Perhaps because she knew how terribly close she had come to becoming like him.<p>

She pulled out the enchanted necklace that she had stolen from the store room. It was a pretty thing, a crystalline silver chain that connected to a single brilliant emerald. She smiled despite herself as she threaded the jewel around her neck, feeling her mana reserves strengthen slightly.

Hushed whispering and muttering.

Layla cast her eyes back to the storeroom - Kayden and the others were absorbed with Owain.

Layla edged closer to the familiar voices. She moved as quietly as she could, fully aware that any sudden noise could result in her being fried to a crisp with blood magic.

"_What do we do now?"_ a female voice said. She sounded near hysterics. "Have you _thought_ of that?"

"We're making sure no one interrupts Olivia's plan," a man replied. He sounded far more in control of his emotions, but the doubt in his voice was obvious.

"But she's not _Olivia _anymore," a second woman chimed in protest, her voice had a rather sweet sing-song quality to it. Possibly the voice of an elf. "I never wanted it to go this far."

"Nether did I, but we've come this far and there is no turning back…"

Layla gave a quick calming breath, and fixed what she hoped was an "I'm friendly! Please don't kill me!" smile on her face.

She rounded the corner to find herself face to face with three filthy-looking blood mages: two humans and an elf. The three of them were covered in dried blood and matted dirt that stained their robes several shades darker than their clean bright yellow. They all looked at her, and their staves raised in defensive postures.

"It's all right!" she called, holding her staff above her head as a sign of peace. "I'm on your side."

The man's eyes widened. "Layla…?"

Amell gave a friendly nod. She recognised the man from before the battle. Enchanter Devon was a shockingly tall man; his face was smooth and youthful, but his blue eyes full of exhaustion.

"She's a demon come to enthral us!" the elf shrieked, and her hands fizzed with energy only to be slapped hard by the other woman.

"Don't be ridiculous, Zelda!" the human woman snapped, as the elf shrieked and backed into the corner. "Get a grip on your emotions!"

Zelda started to sob, but everyone ignored the mewling elf.

"I am glad to see you alive, Miss Amell. So many have died this day, it is a pleasant surprise."

"I am Melody," the human woman said, her ratty features arranged into a half hearted smile.

Layla nodded and lowered her arms. "Listen to me. All of you. I am with a group of Grey Wardens who are attempting to rescue the First Enchanter. .If they find out that you're blood mages, they'll kill you. You need to follow my lead. Understand?"

"But why - "

"Just follow my lead!" she hissed at them, then Layla turned on the spot and sat off a flash of red light.

The four mages listened as rushed footsteps began to clack on stone, finally revealing Layla's companions, led by Kayden.

"Ahh…" Layla said brightly, grinning at the Warden. "There you are! I've found some more survivors."

Alistair frowned at the mages. "How have you survived up here?"

"They were hiding behind the book shelves," Layla said quickly before one of the blood mages could speak. "I wanted to approach them so they wouldn't panic and attack us."

Kayden nodded at them, smiling. "Well met."

Devon was the first to catch on. "Thank you, Warden!" he simpered, bowing slightly. "We have been stuck in this room for I don't know how long."

"We don't know what happened," Melody added, also acting - overacting - her part. "We were just studying and then…."

"You are safe now," Kayden informed them, his voice low and reassuring. "Make your way down to the bottom floor. The survivors are gathering there."

Melody took a moment to drag the sobbing elf to her feet. "_Get up!_" she hissed at the sobbing elf.

"Is she all right?" Alistair wondered, concerned. He took a step forward but Layla's hiss of warning was all he needed. He nodded and took a step back.

"I'm f - fine!" Zelda shrieked in a high pitched tone. Layla gritted her teeth. She was still panicking, and could easily make a mistake.

"Here…" Layla said oversweetly, and pressed her hand to the elves forehead. A slight shimmer of green as the sleeping spell did it's work, and the elf's knees buckled and fell, only to be caught be Devon.

He nodded at Amell with a simple, "Thank you."

"Thank you," he said simply.

"Just go," Layla replied.

* * *

><p>Thanks for reading! Any reviews would be a Maker-send! let me know what you think!<p> 


	9. Fire and Ice

**Hello everyone!**

**Yes, I know. It's been ages since I've done a update. I can only apologise and promise that my attentions have finally been drawn back to this wonderful site.**

**Thank you to everyone for the wonderful reviews, it's an absolute joy and privilege to be so lucky to have you guys reading my little story.**

**Special thanks to Rose tinted contact lenses who didn't bat an eyelid when I came out of the blue three months since our last discussion and did a brilliant beta.**

**So let's get back to the fun shall we? :)**

* * *

><p>The Senior Mage quarters were crawling with bubbling beings of magma, which bellowed and snarled at Kayden as he swished his blade in wide, powerful strikes. The creatures, despite their obvious power, did not seem to hold much in the way of "tactics", preferring to scratch and blaze at his risen shield than attempt to flank him or wait for a break in his defences.<p>

"_DIE, MORTAL!_" the last of his crackling attackers yelled, and a burst of white hot flame plumed towards him like a rabid charging mabari.

The flame ploughed into his shield, and the heat of the flame caused him to drop his only source of protection with a grunt of pain. He backed away from the demon, promptly tripping over one of the undead corpses he had cleanly beheaded earlier. He fell on his back with a _clang_ as his ragged iron armour met stone floor.

The demon advanced on him, crackling and shuddering with laughter. Kayden started backing away frantically, with Oathkeeper far out of his reach.

"_DIE!_" the demon spat.

"Damn," Kayden replied simply, clutching his wounded arm.

Then the personification of anger and malice turned to ice, its once-bubbling lava-like skin frozen into a rather statuesque - if twisted- form. Kayden took his chance and threw himself to the right, grabbing his sword with his unmarked arm and plunging it into the icy statue, which promptly shattered into a thousand sparkling, translucent shards.

"Rage demons are never much for conversation," his rescuer noted idly, eyeing the icy remains with contempt and grinning at him. "Must have been bullied as a child or something."

"I was not aware demons had children," Kayden pointed out, looking up at Layla with his dark eyes.

"Oh, just imagine a rage demon going through puberty!" Layla laughed, dancing over the iced remains.

The two of them were alone in the echoing wide space of the senior mage quarters. Wynne had warned that a group of demons could be skulking in here. Kayden had volunteered to quickly scout the area, and to his surprise - and Wynne's fierce glare - Layla had cheerfully offered to come as well.

"It seems I owe you my life, my lady."

The brunette mage turned her attention back to him, a spicy, mischievous smile spreading over her lips at his dignified admittance. Then to his surprise, she grabbed him by the arm and tugged him over.

"Wha - ?" he began, but Layla "shushed" him and started delicately stroking the raw flesh of his arm where the demon's spell had scorched him. A faint blue light started to flow from her fingertips like rainwater, cooling the raw burning flesh.

"I thought only Senior Enchanter Wynne was learned in healing magic?" he asked, hoping to distract himself from her insistent, gentle touch.

Layla snorted gently, her green emerald eyes dancing. "I've always found the Creation school so very, very dull. No wonder Wynne is so good at it. Personally, I prefer a good fireball. Far more fun, don't you agree? Not that a little healing magic isn't useful!" she rambled on, then her dancing eyes suddenly stopped dead, as if some music only she could hear had abruptly dropped into silence. "I had a friend. He taught me… Gone now."

Kayden eyed the young mage with curiosity in his dark eyes. She was slightly younger than him. Nineteen? Twenty? Barely considered to be an adult if she had ever attended a Landsmeet. Her skin was deathly pale, as if it had not seen sunlight in the longest of times, and it seemed to only exaggerate her youth. Kayden had met only a few mages in his travels, and only a single mage during his young days at Highever. That mage had been part of Rendon Howe's army. Cousland considered for a moment how charging headfirst at that enemy spell caster could have been the death of him. But he was consumed with blood and revenge, the spells that had struck him were simply ignored and he had sunk his blade into the woman's chest without a seconds thought.

How had she come to be in Howe's service? Kayden found himself wondering. It was not unheard of for nobles to employ a mage Healer for prosperity (much to the disdain of the chantry), but a fully trained battlemage?

Layla was different to that woman. She wasn't trying to kill him, for a start, which was always a positive.

"What happened to him?" he asked, breaking the silence.

Layla didn't look up, but continued her gentle healing spell. The glowing blue light seemed to sing on his skin in a very acceptable, if slightly bizarre, sensation.

"He died."

Layla's features temporarily contorted, and the healing light that had been kissing his skin spluttered and faded. Instantly, the wound began to bleed again, and Kayden gave a gasp of pain.

"I know what they're calling me!" she suddenly hissed, and her brown eyes grew unfocused for a moment.

Kayden grimaced as the burning sensation of the demon's spell started to return to his wounded arm, but he ignored it, studying the young mage's face if it was the most fascinating thing in the world.

"He was my friend!" she continued, seemingly more to herself than him. "Anders was his name. Anders. I think he may have been the only real friend I ever had. He was just so charming and witty and kind. And now he's dead. Because of blood magic. "

"I too know what it is to experience loss," Kayden said quietly, and he placed his unharmed left hand gently on her shoulder.

"You said earlier you didn't believe that I was a blood mage," she said, finally, casting her gaze on him.

"I did say that, yes."

"Why?"

"Because I know what a murderer looks like."

"So do I, Warden."

And then her serious expression melted away as quickly as it had come and she recommenced her healing, much to Kayden's relief.

The gently hugging blue light faded away, and Kayden was vastly relieved - and slightly disappointed - when she relinquished her touch.

Layla turned her attention to the corpses that were strewn around the area.

Kayden inspected his once ruined arm. The area where the Demon had caught him was now completely hairless, but the skin itself was a healthy pink rather than an angry red.

"My thanks," he told the young mage.

Layla grinned up at him and then pushed a few health poultries into his hand.

"You're welcome, Warden."

Kayden looked set to reply when his eyes narrowed at a nearby wooden closet, his dark eyes full of suspicion.

Layla frowned. "What's wrong?"

"I heard…" he said, advancing on the closet with Oathkeeper drawn.

Now Layla was listening, she could hear the voices as well. They were quiet and muffled, but it seemed the two were in the middle of an argument.

_"Will you stop fidgeting?"_

_"Fidgeting? If you stopped taking up all the room, I - "_

_"I don't want to __**die!**__"_

_**"Shhh!"**_

"Hello?" Kayden called cautiously, and the two voices promptly stopped.

"_H - hello?_" one of the voices replied; it was practically a whimper.

Layla came to Kayden's side, smiling at the closet as if it was some sort of long lost relation.

"Excuse me, Mr Talking Closet… May I ask what you're doing here?"

_"N-nothing. P - please, we don't want to die."_

_"My back is killing me!"_

_"No-one asked you to hide in my closet!"_

_"How is this __**YOUR**__ closet?"_

"No one is going to hurt you, unless you give us cause," Kayden replied stiffly. "Now come out."

The closet doors creaked open on damaged hinges, presenting two very ruffled looking mages.

One was middle-aged, his long dirty blonde hair strapped to his sweaty forehead. He was practically shaking and failed to look Kayden in the eye, preferring to stare at the floor as if it was the most fascinating thing in the world. And the other…

"Finn!" Layla cried, and she was on the shocked mage in a second, practically throwing him off his feet as she grabbed him in a tight hug.

"_Layla?_" he gasped through the hug. "_Can't… breathe_."

"Sorry!" Layla relinquished her hold and stepped away, still grinning, wide-eyed, at the man.

"Friend of yours, I take it?" Kayden enquired, frowning at the mage with a not unfriendly stare.

"Oh, right!" Layla said, her bright lime eyes glittering as she took Kayden's arm in her own.

"Warden Kayden Cousland, this is Florain Phineas Horatio Aldebrant Esquire! My good friend and the reason I know so much of the Qun!"

"It's Finn," Phineus replied, smiling his relief. "Only Layla insists on - "

"It's a _nice_ name!" Layla replied, indignant.

Kayden suppressed a smile and nodded at the mage. "A pleasure to meet you, Finn."

The other man, who called himself Godwin, quickly explained that the moment the demons had turned up, he had dived into the nearest cupboard and stayed quiet as he possibly could. Only Finn had had the same idea. It had been a bit… tight.

"I have a crick in my back and my bum's gone numb. Oh, holy Maker… look at this. Those demons didn't know what hit them, did they?"

"Surviving mages are convening on the lower levels," Kayden informed the two briskly. Finn was looking rather pale. "It is safe for you to go."

The two mages nodded their thanks, and Layla gave Finn one last tight hug before they gratefully left the stink of dead demon behind.

* * *

><p>The corridor was full of corpses.<p>

"Alistair?" Kayden called, looking around at the carnage in the corridor with deep concern on his fine, if haggard features.

He raised an eyebrow at his fellow Warden, who was looking out of breath. Even Morrigan was looking a little flustered as she gulped down a lyrium potion. Huan looked up at the familiar voice and barked a greeting to his master.

"What happened?"

Alistair cast a furtive glance at the fresh Templar corpses as if he hadn't noticed them before.

"Oh, these?" he replied breathlessly, wiping red blood off his blade. "They came at us after you wondered off."

"For a moment I believed the templars had began their cleansing of the tower," Wynne said, bending down to close one of the templar's eyes. He was a distressingly young man, nowhere near as broad or thick set as some of the other dead men. His once immaculate brown locks were caked in his own blood. "It turns out these men were not themselves."

"Demon," Alistair explained to Kayden, unnecessarily.

Layla was staring down at the corpses with a confused frown of an expression on her face. "Wait. I'm sorry, what? Templars can be _possessed?_ How - ?"

A sour chuckle echoed up and down the curved corridor. "Anything can be possessed," Morrigan drawled, a evil smile spreading over her lips. "'Tis a fact that the Chantry, in their deplorable ignorance, choose to ignore."

"They _don't_ ignore it," Alistair argued, a frown on his boyish features. "It's just mages are… y'know… more… um."

This time it was Layla who laughed coldly. "And you say you are not a templar. You certainly sound like one… Warden."

Alistair bristled, his ears turning a rather striking maroon. "Look, I'm just - I'm saying - I'm not a templar… alright?"

"Oh, that was convincing," Layla replied, nodding to herself. "I'm convinced."

"Good work," Kayden said overloudly, and Amell's suspicious glare faded away.

"We need to get a move on. Alistair and myself will take the lead. Morrigan? Take the rear."

* * *

><p>The group continued their advance, constantly bombarded by abominations and possessed templars. Layla gritted her teeth when they were attacked by a couple of desperate blood mages, but they fell just as quickly.<p>

They were becoming quite the war machine, Layla reflected cheerfully, as she caused another shambling skeleton to abruptly burst into fire, its coughing and clattering jaw set wide in a fiery scream as it collapsed to the floor in an ashen heap. The handsome Warden and "Templar-Boy" (as she now thought of him) were at the front of the group, two iron towers with swords shining and slicing into the undead abominations that attempted to stall the groups advance. Behind the two towering warriors came Morrigan and herself. Layla was bewildered and grudgingly impressed by the apostate's exotic spells, some of which drained the very perverted life force from the demons that accosted them, and others that seemed to cause the creatures to tear themselves apart from the inside. Not to be outdone by some tartily dressed swamp woman, Layla had cast her own spells, shocking skeletons with white hot lightning and crushing others with formidable stone fists. On one particaully notable occasion, Layla's favourite fireball spell and one of Morrigan's cones of cold convened and combined into a blistering wall of burning white hot ice that set Layla's teeth on edge. The resulting Fireice spell ploughed into a group of rage abominations, tearing them apart in a blizzard of howling flame and dagger sharp ice chards.

Afterwards, Morrigan had cast Layla a amused look, which Layla returned with a bemused grin, feeling a somewhat growing affection for the Witch.

"'Twas not bad," Morrigan conceded, eyeing the smoking corpses with a disdainful eye (which is how she seemed to view the entire world in general). "For a leashed mage," she added, as an afterthought.

Layla glared.


	10. A note from The Author

Hello everyone! Yes, I'm really sorry this is not a new chapter. I wish it was but unfortunately the folder containing my new chapters of Blood of the Magi was corrupted by an evil virus about six months ago.(I put blame with the Darkspawn. They've always been shifty.)

Anyway, I wanted to put a quick note up to let everyone know that I have NOT given up on this story, it's simply taken this amount of time to buy a new laptop. New chapters of Blood of the Magi will hopefully be out next month. I was planning to post what I had done so far but the document holding the chapter is corrupted more than the Archdemon.

Oh and Mass Effect: Echoes should be out next week as well.

To those who are still interested in the story after all this time (I have received a dozen story alerts since my laptop died, which I am infinitely grateful for) I thank you very much for your patience.

See you all for new chapters soon.

Oh, and if anyone would like to Beta, please PM me.

Thanks again.


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